#7th dragon god hand | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

spicy30 · 8 days ago

Text

Modernness of 1400s 010

Pairing: HOTD x Fem!Modern!Reader

Extra: The reader is noted to be bilingual (Spanish speaking) and is familiar with the majority of Latin-based languages, No use of Y/N

Rating: 18+ (domestic abuse)

Tags: @fan-goddess @meowmeowmothermeower @bunxia @your-favorite-god @coolalienstatesmansports @georgiatesulitsyeykite @qwerrtsworld @wegottastayfocus @dakota-rain666 @talilosha @the-deep-dark-abyss @101crows @agustdeeyaa @ggglich-exe @illjhhlisa @deepeststarlightmoon @cluelessteam @a-fruity-snack @i-zenin @justablondeeee @feyresqueen @yduimobsessed @pinkluv29 @xmenteria @itwaszzmoon @powllito @xadaboo @magdalenacarmila

WC: 12.4k

21st day of the 7th moon of 129 AC

To Jacaerys of the House Velaryon, I urge you to end all communications with me. No longer do I wish to be in contact with you.

…

Jacaerys furrowed his brows looking over the letter. “To Jacaerys of the House Velaryon, I urge you to end all communications with me. No longer do I wish to be in contact with you.” Again.

“To Jacaerys of the House Velaryon, I urge you to end all communications with me. No longer do I wish to be in contact with you.” Again.

“To Jacaerys of the House Velaryon, I urge you to end all communications with me. No longer do I wish to be in contact with you.” One more time.

“To Jacaerys of the House Velaryon, I urge you to end all communications with me. No longer do I wish to be in contact with you.” Your name was signed at the bottom. He darted up from his chair going over to his night stand to read your last letter. Had he missed something in your last letter? They were sent only three days apart. What changed?

…

7th day of the 7th moon of 129 AC

Today is a holy day—the holiest of days. The seventh day of the seventh month, when the Seven smile down upon their faithful.

There are few things in this world that can truly be called holy.

Today is one of them.

But you are not. Not in the eyes of the High Septon.

You are new. Different. Unexplainable. You are magic—a force beyond his comprehension. Like the dragons, like the Targaryens, who, despite their sins and misdeeds, remain inexplicably closer to the gods than he, the High Septon, ever will.

Today, the bells of the Great Sept toll in solemn rhythm, calling all to attend the sacred ceremony of the Seven. The air is thick with incense, the sweet and smoky fragrance curling through the stone corridors like a prayer whispered to the heavens. Worshipers flood the Sept, their voices a low hum of reverence, heads bowed, hands clasped.

You are there among them, standing apart yet undeniably present. Dressed in white, gold glinting at your wrists, the light streaming through the stained-glass windows dances over you like a blessing from the gods themselves. To many, you appear a vision—a living relic touched by divine hands.

But to the High Septon, seated at the heart of the sanctum beneath the seven-pointed star, you are an annoyance. A disruption.

As he leads the prayers, he does not meet your gaze. When his eyes sweep across the congregation, they glide past you as though you are invisible. Yet in his chest, a familiar irritation brews, sharper with every passing moment.

You are too still, too composed, as if you do not carry the weight of your sins. The others kneel with trembling hands and tearful eyes, pleading for forgiveness, but you remain poised, serene, as though you have no need to beg the Seven for their mercy. It is as though you think you are already favored—already holy.

The High Septon’s words rise and fall in practiced cadence, his voice steady and commanding. He preaches of humility, of repentance, of knowing one’s place beneath the gods. But his thoughts stray, circling back to you, unbidden.

He recalls the whispers about you. The miracles you claim, the illnesses you’ve healed, the strange knowledge you wield. He remembers the way the sun cast its colors over you that day, a spectacle he had never seen before, and how even now the faithful murmur your name in the Sept as if it is a hymn.

It infuriates him.

You are not holy. You are not chosen. You are not ordained by the gods to serve their will.

You are no better than the Targeyens dancing on their dragons, breathing fire and destruction in their arrogance. Magic, power, miracles—they are tools of chaos, not proof of divinity.

As the ceremony draws to a close, he stands beneath the great star, arms outstretched, his voice booming with finality. “May the Seven guide us in their wisdom. May we walk humbly in their light, never straying, never claiming what is not ours to take. For pride is the path of ruin, and only through devotion may we find salvation.”

His gaze lingers on you for the first time, sharp and pointed, his unspoken condemnation clear.

And yet, as the worshipers rise and disperse, heads bowed and voices hushed, you remain unmoved. You lift your chin ever so slightly, meeting his stare with an expression he cannot place—neither defiance nor submission, but something more elusive.

If he is waiting for you to falter, to shrink beneath his judgment, he will be left wanting. You do not need his validation. You have come not for his approval but for answers.

As the High Septon turns away, his robes trailing behind him, he mutters a quiet prayer under his breath. Not for you, but for the realm. For he is certain now: you are not holy. You are dangerous.

…

10th day of the 7th moon of 129 AC

Aemond Targeyen had seen many things in his life, despite the lack of an eye. How could he not? He can see through Vhagar. Flying through the skies, seeing through the eyes of the gods. Aemond had seen more than those with two eyes ever will.

An unfortunate side-effect to seeing through the Gods (Vhagar) is that not many things interest him any longer. He has grown bored of looking through the eyes of man.

Yet by many, Aemond was considered no mere man—how could he be, as a Targaryen? Born of fire and blood, chosen by Vhagar, the queen of dragons. The gods had marked him. And though his Valyrian blood deemed him superior, Aemond’s sights were set higher still. To him, the eyes of a King—perched atop the Iron Throne, looking down on the realm—were the only vision worthy of comparison to the gods. The Iron Throne was the apex, the sole seat that could match his ambitions and cure his ennui.

But this sight in front of him might be enough to satisfy him, if only for a bit.

Here and now as he lies on your bed bare as the day he was born, his gaze lingers on you—a sight that, for once, stirred his restless mind.

You sat by the window, your lips slightly parted in concentration as you painted your lashes a dark, striking black. Your eyes, already piercing, became more prominent with each careful stroke. You held a mirror in your hand, one he hadn’t seen before. Encased in what looked to be silver or perhaps fine steel, it bore delicate engravings partially obscured by your fingers, which were adorned with rings. Your nails, long and polished, gleamed like tiny blades. (How you seem to glisten down to even your nails he will never know)

The mirror’s quality was far better than his own—his, with rusted edges and dim reflection, felt crude in comparison. Yours was pristine, untouched by decay, much like yourself. You seemed impervious to the filth and shadows of King’s Landing, as if you had stepped out of another world.

The light pouring through the window illuminated your exposed collarbone and the soft swell of your cleavage, making your skin glow. Your cheeks held a perfect flush, a rosy hue that mimicked the warmth of sunlight caressing your skin.

He watched, transfixed, as you set the mirror down and reached for a bag embroidered with golden letters that spelled DIOR—a name he did not recognize but found intriguing nonetheless. From the bag, you pulled a silver-encrusted tube, sleek and foreign.

Aemond’s sharp eye followed your every movement as you opened the tube and lifted the mirror once more, applying a glossy sheen to your lips with precision. For a fleeting moment, he believed that perhaps you could fulfill his longing for something—anything—worth observing through the eyes of man.

In this moment, you were more than a curiosity; you were a masterpiece, a picture of regality and otherworldly elegance. Aemond’s boredom, for once, began to waver.

Aemond remained silent, his sharp gaze unwavering as you tilted your head, inspecting your reflection in the mirror. The sunlight seemed to cling to you, as if it, too, were captivated. You pressed your lips together lightly, spreading the gloss evenly, and then set the tube down beside your mirror.

The motion was simple, yet deliberate, exuding a calm self-assurance he found rare in others. The people of King’s Landing always seemed to wear their unease plainly, their movements erratic, their gazes nervous. You, however, moved as if you had all the time in the world, as though nothing could rush or disturb you.

“You stare,” you said suddenly, breaking the silence without glancing his way.

Aemond’s lips curled into the faintest smirk, unrepentant. “Should I not?”

You finally turned your head toward him, an arched brow accompanying your unimpressed expression. “It’s rude, you know. People tend to find it unsettling.”

“Do they?” he asked, voice laced with amusement. “I wonder if anyone’s ever dared tell me that to my face.”

“First time for everything.” You leaned back in your chair, crossing one leg over the other. The hem of your dress shifted slightly, revealing the shimmer of gold-threaded embroidery along its edge.

Aemond’s eye flicked briefly to the fabric before returning to your face. “And yet, you don’t seem unsettled. Only... irked.”

“Maybe I’m just used to people staring,” you replied, brushing a stray strand of hair from your face. “Or maybe I’ve decided it’s easier to let you stare and get bored than to tell you to stop and risk making it worse.”

Aemond chuckled softly, low and resonant. “You think I bore so easily?”

“I think you bore quicker than most.” You rested your elbow on the arm of your chair, propping your chin on your hand as you studied him. ��Which begs the question—why are you still here?”

“So you are irate today.” Aemond’s smirk widened, a rare spark of genuine intrigue lighting his expression, yet it never seemed rare with you. It only fueled his amusement when your lips pursed, the gloss on them gleaming in the sunlight. Tugging at the robe that hung loosely off his frame, he stood, his eyepatch resting untouched on the nearby counter.

“Tell me,” he said smoothly, his tone baiting, “I figured it would’ve passed by now. What has you cross today? Did you not enjoy the ceremony of the Seven.”

You didn’t respond, your silence an act of defiance that only seemed to amuse him further. Aemond stepped closer, the faint rustle of the bedsheets as he moved towards you breaks the stillness.“Still upset that my mother hasn’t introduced you to the High Septon?” he murmured, his voice low, deliberate. “Everything is easier with a name to stand behind you.”

He leaned down slightly, and the sweet, almost otherworldly scent that seemed to belong only to you enveloped him. It was both maddening and intoxicating.

“I don’t understand why he refuses to meet with me,” you said, frustration softening your usually steady voice. “It has been a whole month yet he seems to despise me, but I haven’t done anything wrong, have I?”

Your wide eyes—framed by lashes that seemed longer and darker in the sunlight—looked up at him with an innocence he knew better than to trust. His hand moved before he thought, fingers brushing against your cheek, but when you tilted your head, it was your hair that became ensnared in his grasp, soft and impossibly sweet smelling.

“Good deeds are not enough for the High Septon,” he said, his voice quieter now, as if sharing a secret.

“Is that not what the Faith preaches?” you murmured, though your eyes weren’t on his. They lingered on his lips instead, and he knew you were aware of the power you wielded in that moment. “I don’t do it for recognition, though. Perhaps I did at first, but... it feels good simply to do good.”

Your gaze drifted from his lone eye to the sapphire, then back again, studying him in a way that made him feel both exposed and intrigued. Before he could respond, you leaned in, your lips brushing his cheek in a chaste kiss, the gloss leaving a faint shimmer against his skin.

For a moment, he was still, caught between the warmth of your touch and the unfamiliar sensation of vulnerability it brought. But when he straightened, the corner of his lips curved, though his eye remained calculating.

You were dangerous, he thought, but perhaps... that was what made you so interesting.

He leaned into your cupping your face and brought it closer to him as he kissed you. A practiced motion between the two of you. He felt as you wrapped your arms around him and pulled him down. He obliged to your wishes. His hands drop and inside hold your waist as he lifts you up from your chair. You both break and he can look at you admiring as the sun hits your eyes illuminating them.

“Otto fights me on everything,” you murmured, your voice soft, as though you feared the walls might hear. To Aemond, it sounded almost like a whispered heresy, something that should never be spoken aloud in a place like the Red Keep.

“He sees you as a disruption,” He replied evenly, though there was a flicker of something in his tone. Amusement, perhaps? Or curiosity? “You challenge the natural order of things—his order.”

“Challenge? All I’m doing is suggesting progress,” you scoffed, leaning against him as your arms continue to hold him close to you. “Do you not see the benefit of what I’ve proposed? Patents would encourage innovation. Imagine what could be built—what could be created—if inventors and scholars felt protected, if their work wasn’t stolen by those with power but no imagination.” You speak into his chest.

Aemond’s lips twitched slightly, the barest hint of a smirk. “And yet, you expect my grandsire, the very embodiment of power and tradition, to willingly hand over control of such matters? You’re either bold or naïve.”

“Why not both?” You gave a sweet smile looking up towards him.

The corner of his mouth lifted further at that, though his eye remained sharp, assessing. “Adding a new position to the council is no small request. It threatens the balance of power.”

“Does it?” you countered. “Or does it merely challenge the age-old idea that men like Otto cling to with all their might?”

Aemond tilted his head slightly, studying you. “And who, pray tell, would you recommend for this new position?”

You hesitated, Aemond could almost see your thoughts turning. You hadn’t yet settled on a name, but you knew what you needed—someone older, someone with experience, yet not so entrenched in tradition that they would resist progress.

“I’m still considering,” you admitted, though your tone was firm. “But it would need to be someone who understands innovation, someone who values intellect over influence.”

“Someone you could control,” Aemond clarified while looking down towards you, his hand firmly on your hips

He watched you give a wide grin. “Control? No. Persuade? Perhaps. Influence? Certainly.” You gave Aemond another chaste kiss before turning around preparing your papers. “In any case…this needs to be passed.” He heard you hum out before turning around.

Aemond gave a low hum, his tone distant, as he began dressing himself. He heard your soft farewell before the door clicked shut behind you, leaving him alone in your chambers. It was unusual. In the past month since your peculiar routine together had begun, Aemond had never lingered in your room for long. You always seemed particular about your things, shooing him out with a sense of urgency that he attributed to your underlying fear of his mother. It irritated him, though he wouldn’t admit it aloud.

You should not fear his mother—not when he stands between the two of you.

(But even as the thought passed through his mind, a quieter, less comforting truth lingered: what is a Prince to a Queen? And worse still, Aemond could not deny that it was his father’s favor, not his own protection, that truly shielded you from his family’s ire.)

He reached for his eyepatch, which lay discarded on the desk. As his fingers brushed it, the leather slipped from his grasp and fell to the floor. His irritation flared for a moment, a small crack in his otherwise stoic demeanor. He knelt to retrieve it when something caught his eye—a faint glint of metal, hidden beneath your bed.

Aemond stilled, his hand hovering over the eyepatch.

“California love” Aemond turned around to his brother in…well Aemond didn’t know what it was. “California knows how to party. California knows how to party.” His brother sang as he threw back a drink. “What do you think brother?” Aegon grinned. “A wife beater.”

Aemond furrowed his brows. “You would strike your sister-wife!? Our future Queen!” Aemond hissed out marching towards his foolish older brother.

Aegon shook his head while grinning. “No brother, that is what this-” Aegon pointed towards his white…shift? (Aemond refuses to call it a wife beater) “It’s called a wife beater.” Your name came from Aegon’s mouth of how you had introduced him to ‘slangs,’ ‘gang wars’ and ‘the west coast vs the east coast’ (Aegon said that he much preferred the West coast)

“In the city of LA, in the city of good ‘ol Watts. In the city, city of Compton. We keep it rockin', we keep it rockin' Now let me welcome everybody to the Wild Wild West. A state that's untouchable like Eliot Ness….thats all I know. Love that song. Sunshine state. Sunfyre and I would thrive in California.” As Aegon sang Aemond simply stood there.

California?

Aemond Targeyen knows nothing.

Your homeland, your past, the strange words that spilled from your lips when he pressed you beneath him—these were all mysteries wrapped in the enigma that was you.

This lack of knowledge gnawed at him, and in that moment, he justified his curiosity as natural. Expected.

Reaching beneath the bed, his hand found the metal handles of an oddly shaped bag. He hesitated for only a moment before pulling it into the light. Inside the bag were an assortment of objects: a neatly folded set of unfamiliar clothing, patterned bags, soft leather pouches, and a pair of sandals—the very ones you had worn when he first saw you. But one item in particular drew his attention.

It was green, with dark, rounded glass encased in what appeared to be a semi-translucent frame. Light and delicate, the object felt strange in his hands. Aemond furrowed his brow as he examined it, noting the fine, intricate metalwork at its hinges.

He carefully unfolded the arms of the object, marveling at the tiny mechanisms that allowed it to move with such precision. The craftsmanship was like nothing he had ever seen. What sort of blacksmith could forge such delicate pieces?

Curiosity overcame him, and he brought the dark glass to his eye. The world darkened instantly, and he frowned. He adjusted the arms until they rested over his ears, the glass sitting snugly on his face. He blinked, the dimmed view unnerving him.

Why would anyone wear such a thing? What purpose could it serve?

He removed the object abruptly, and the brightness of the room returned with a sharpness that made him wince, a faint ache forming between his brows. Looking deeper into the bag, Aemond found a small booklet with a box on its cover—a strange contraption with a glass eye at its center. Opening the booklet, he discovered what appeared to be miniature portraits. But they weren’t paintings; no brushstrokes marred their surfaces. They were impossibly detailed, lifelike beyond comprehension. They were reflections frozen in time.

One of the portraits featured you with another girl, her appearance as foreign as yours. The two of you wore what could only be described as scandalous—she in a strapless dress, while the both of you held food between your mouths, connected in a playful pose. Another showed the two of you in what he could only interpret as smallclothes, laughing as you stood knee-deep in the sea. In yet another, you were seated in a contraption he could only compare to a carriage, though it bore no wheels or horses. You wore trousers and a small white top that looked more like undergarments to his eyes.

Aemond continues to look through the small portraits. Countless photos of you in what seem like another lifetime. There you were, standing before a tower that soared higher than the Red Keep itself. Another portrait depicted you before an awe-inspiring Sept, the girl from earlier by your side. He turned the page to find you with a woman he assumed was your mother, standing before what appeared to be a glass pyramid. Each image offered a glimpse into a life so foreign, it might as well have been from another world.

One portrait caught his attention: you dressed in a long coat with an undershirt that covered your neck, dark trousers, and those same green-framed dark glasses perched atop your head. A strong wind seemed to whip your hair across your face as you stood before a grand landscape with a mighty river snaking behind you. In another, you were bundled in heavy clothing, yellow mirrors covering your eyes, and a rounded hat atop your head as you held two metal objects, white snow blanketing the scene behind you. Another showed you and a man he presumed to be your father, standing before a tower that leans precariously to one side. More portraits followed, featuring great statues, vast cities, and you with your family in settings so extraordinary they hardly seemed real.

Some of the portraits appeared to be breathtaking works of art, though most were self-portraits of you with the girl and others. One, in particular, showed you and a group of girls clad in tunics bearing numbers—outfits far too improper by Westerosi standards. Another featured a large gathering of people, all young, their attire beyond Aemond's comprehension. In that image, you were smiling brightly, your arm wrapped around a boy who stood close to you.

He turned another page and paused, his brow furrowing. The next portrait showed you standing beneath a floating banner that read “Happy Birthday.” A brightly colored cake sat before you, and your family stood gathered around you. You looked impossibly young, your smile radiant and unguarded.

Aemond thought the booklet had ended, but as he went to close it, he noticed a small folder tucked into the back. Pulling it out, he found more portraits—these ones more intimate. They showed you and the same boy from earlier, but now, you were kissing him. Each portrait captured moments of affection and closeness that felt invasive to witness.

His hand tightened around the booklet, and a strange feeling curled in his chest—part curiosity, part irritation, and something else he couldn’t quite name. Who was this boy? What life had you lived before this one? Aemond stared at the portraits, his mind swirling with questions he doubted you would answer willingly.

…

12th day of the 7th moon of 129 AC

Daemon is not fond of you. That much is clear to everyone. To him, you are another green snake slithering in his path, another head to be severed when the time comes. It’s no matter; he’s already counting the days until your venom meets its antidote.

Yet, you don’t act like the other snakes. You bite the hand that feeds you, snapping at those who should be your allies. The whispers about you echo through the halls of the Red Keep, growing louder with each passing day. You sow chaos among the greens—retaliations and sharp words delivered like daggers—and though Daemon despises you, he finds himself lingering just long enough to see where the trail of destruction leads.

To Daemon, you’re not a player in this game; you’re a spectacle. A fire sparking in the middle of a powder keg. He doesn’t watch to see you succeed or to root for your cause—Daemon Targaryen watches to see who will fall first. Whether your bite sends the entire tower of greens crumbling or whether you’ll meet your own demise from their retribution, it doesn’t matter to him.

What does matter to him is his daughters. Daughters who now seem to be collateral damage to your venom. Daemon's loyalists, carefully reassembled during his prolonged stay in King’s Landing, begin to whisper of sour fruits. Letters—you’ve been sending them. Letters to someone caught in your vice, someone who ties himself to his eldest daughter. It gnaws at him, deep and persistent. You gnaw at him.

You shouldn’t have the reach to wrap yourself around a prince across the bay, to slither into places you don’t belong. You shouldn’t even be here, in this castle, weaving yourself into the threads of his family’s tapestry. To him, you are a mutt—a mongrel clawing at the edges of a world far above you, and yet, somehow, here you are.

It is that persistence, that audacity, that irks him most. He watches as you charm your way into rooms you should never enter, as you plant seeds in soil that should remain barren to you. And now, with every letter sent, every whispered scheme, it feels as though your shadow stretches closer to what he holds dear.

For all his hatred, Daemon couldn’t help but watch you, the way you slithered towards the council room with a grace that could captivate even the most hardened heart. Your hips swayed almost hypnotically, drawing his attention to the very room he had always longed to be in, only to be cast away from. "Well, if it isn’t the prattling bitch. Come to talk their ears off again?" he sneered, his voice dripping with disdain.

Daemon relished the way you stiffened, knowing full well that there was no one here to save you from his words. His gaze sharpened as he watched your brows furrow. "Jealous that you can’t?" you retorted, the challenge clear in your voice. "Let's try to remember, I’m in the room and—" You let your eyes trail over him, a deliberate move, “—you’re not.”

A small, defiant smile curved your lips as you began to walk away from him, the sound of your footsteps echoing in the stillness of the hall.

Daemon’s amusement flickered, and he couldn't resist a final jab. "And let’s not forget, you’re nothing but a mutt with nothing to your name."

"Me? The mutt?" You turned back toward him with a tilt of your head, a playful glint in your eyes. "But I’m not the one patiently waiting outside for my wife to come back and collect me, like a good stray who’s been fed. I’ll make a suggestion to the Princess to toss you a bone."

“My Lady.” Daemon’s eyes were drawn to the dornish knight who called after you.

“Ser Criston!”

Daemon gave a scoff as you pranced over towards the Knight. “A bitch and a whore. Tell me when we will be expecting a litter of mutts?” That made you stop in your tracks and Daemon couldn't be bothered to acknowledge the look on Crispin’s face.

“No,” you said sharply, turning to face him. "I am a woman who knows exactly what I want and how to get it." You took a deliberate step closer, your expression mocking. “You, on the other hand…” Your brows furrowed in feigned pity, “I almost feel sorry for you. Always last to be chosen, not even second, always third. I imagine it grates the most that your niece was chosen for the throne before you. How sad that must be, to have your bloodline suffer so.”

Daemon’s fists clenched as you continued. “First, Rhaenyra, then her younger brother—may he rest in peace—and finally, you. The third choice. That was of course before the birth of the King’s other four children. Even your son is nothing but a third choice, trailing behind Princes Lucerys and Joffrey. How truly tragic it must be, to know that the only way you can achieve anything as a second son is to marry your own niece.”

Your words rang in the air like a cruel melody, and Daemon gritted his teeth, anger rising in him.

You gave a high-pitched hum, shrugging your shoulders. "But I suppose you’ve always known your place, haven’t you? Best to start acting like it. I suggest getting yourself a seat while you wait outside for your wife, sitting down.”

Daemon’s gaze sharpened as you walked toward the door to the small council. He did not miss the small, self-satisfied smirk on the Dornish knight’s face.

With a slow, deliberate motion, Daemon’s hand hovered near Dark Sister, a dangerous glint in his eye, but he refrained. The small council awaited, and for now, he would bide his time. But this… this humiliation would not be forgotten.

…

12th day of 7th moon of 129 AC

You were strange. Very strange to Ser Criston Cole. He had thought you a simple girl—fearful, fragile, like any other who came to King’s Landing with nothing to their name. (Like him all those years ago.) He remembered the day you prayed outside Queen Alicent’s chambers, trembling as though the gods themselves might descend to save you. If he was commanded to, Ser Criston Cole would strike you down. He would’ve struck you down that day had Alicent asked it of him, but she didn’t, only to observe.

So he has. He watched that day as he heard sounds from your room. He watches as Aemond seems to leave their training sessions earlier, as Aegon sings songs no one has ever heard under his breath, and how Helaena speaks in more riddles since going to the Riverlands.

“Beneath the dawn of gilded skies, a great age shall rise,” Helaena hums as she sows whilst her children play elsewhere. “Born of unity and splendor, a golden bond sworn.”

Alicent is right. You pollute and Ser Criston thinks that you are polluting a Prince's honor. (But should he go throwing stones from his glass house? If the Queen demands it of him, he will.)

However, until anything more is demanded of Ser Criston Cole he will not act, he will simply watch and now he watches you as you spit your words towards Prince Daemon. It brings him deep satisfaction. (Why? Criston likes to think that it is because Daemon has always been a thorn in his side but he knows better than that. Or does he?)

No he doesn’t because in this moment Criston feels as though he is living vicariously through you. It is as though your words are his, as though he himself is insulting the Prince without consequence.

“But I suppose you’ve always known your place, haven’t you? Best to start acting like it. I suggest getting yourself a seat while you wait outside for your wife, sitting down.”

You pollute things around you, never caring who else ingests your pollution. You are selfish beyond belief and Criston will live through you if only for a moment because he was denied when he wanted to be selfish.

Criston was denied a life that he wanted when his white coat was stepped on. He was denied the only life he could live honorably. Criston is forced now to live a life he cannot help but detest. He lives as Ser Criston Cole, as an honorable knight who has taken an oath of celibacy, Criston lives as a knight who broke his sacred vows, but what else does he have? Nothing but the favor of a Queen, for he lost his honor long ago.

So Criston watches you, watches as he sees you earn the ire of the Queen who he is sworn to, watches as you earn the annoyance of the hand, yet you earn the favor of a King. Ser Criston knows the danger that comes with earning the favor of a royal, much more of a King. You are beautiful woman, he cannot deny, he doubts anyone else can deny putting aside your peculiarity, but if King Viserys continues on the track of health you have launched him to, Ser Criston knows you have failed to see the chain on your ankle that ties you to the King and soon you too will be launched with the King and thus sealing your fate.

And like him, you will be forced to live a life you did not mean for.

But Ser Criston has not been told to act yet, so he simply watches you. Watch as for hours you stand in front of the council speaking as if you have all the answers in life, as you speak with knowledge beyond your years. You speak as though you have all the answers, as though the path forward is as clear to you as the sun in the sky. You speak of radical ideas to launch Westeros forward. You talk so much and so loud for someone with no name and no bloodline to shield you, it almost irritates him, but why? Ser Criston cannot say why.

You speak with everything. Everything is conveyed with every single part of your being. As if you truly believe the words you speak. But in his eyes you cannot be so sure of yourself. You cannot truly be putting your whole faith and trust into your ideas. You cannot hope to be so selfish and so self assured because when he was like you, he was not. You have nothing to shield you but the favor of a King and Ser Criston Cole knows that is not enough.

Ser Criston continues to watch you. Watch as once more the council is adjourned once more and there is a displeased look in your face. He watches as you all walk out, yet you walk alongside the King as he asks for you and you politely agree to meet him later in the evening. There's a disgust that arises in him as he hears you agree. A disgust that the Queen shares as they both walk away.

He can hear the Queen muttering beside him, her voice low but brittle with frustration. “The King grows too lenient. Too… infatuated with her nonsense.”

Ser Criston nods, a dutiful echo of her sentiment. “The council grows restless, Your Grace. Her influence spreads unchecked.”

Alicent pauses mid-step, turning to glance back down the hall where you have disappeared with Viserys. Her expression is tight, her lips pressed thin. “Unchecked, yes,” she murmurs. “But not for much longer.”

Ser Criston catches the cold edge in her voice, the glint of steel behind her calm façade. He has served Alicent long enough to recognize the slow, deliberate way she moves when she is planning something. His chest tightens, and though he knows it is not his place, he cannot stop himself from speaking.

“Your Grace,” he says carefully. He had danced with Alicent countless times. She never could admit what she wanted so it was up to him to decipher her. He watches her eyes, her body, her mouth, everything about her he watches. He gives a nod. Ser Criston is sworn to Queen, Ser Criston Cole always knows what is expected of him.

…

14th day of the 7th moon of 129 AC

His lone eye looked over the letters you had received from his nephew on Dragonstone. Aemond crumpled the edges of the paper as his jaw tightened, his grip on the fragile parchment growing tauter by the moment. The words were innocuous enough on the surface—gracious, polite, and steeped in an almost boyish sincerity. But to Aemond, they were nothing short of treachery.

He read them again, his sharp gaze slicing through each sentence like a blade. "Your apology is well received." Aemond sneered, the words tasting bitter on his tongue. What sort of relationship could the two of you possibly have that warrants such a familiar exchange? And why, by all the gods, had you accepted it?

Had you played the same game with Jacaerys that you had played with him? The same coy smile, the same allure that had drawn him into your chambers that first night? Had you ensnared his nephew as you had ensnared him? Opened your legs so obedient as you do for him? And what of that man in those strange, vivid paintings you kept so carefully hidden?

Aemond’s jaw clenched as his lone eye narrowed, scanning the lines once more, his ire growing with each passing sentence.

"You have shown me things that never in my life I would ever see, and for that I am grateful."

Just what had you shown him? Aemond cannot say because he does not know you—not truly—and it seems more apparent with every passing day. The inside jests you share with Aegon, the peculiar games you invent for Jaehaera and Jaehaerys while Aegon plays alongside you, the strange foods you bring to Helaena—why do his siblings seem to know you better than he does when it is Aemond who shares your bed?

"I truly do hope to see you once more here in Dragonstone."

He will not. Aemond will make sure of it.

But it is the most recent letter that cuts the deepest, the one that feels the most intimate.

"I would much rather share your burdens than have you face them alone."

Words you speak to a wife. Words meant for a partner, not a stranger. And yet his nephew has written them to you, without shame, without pretense.

There is no subtlety. None. What right does his nephew have to you? What claim?

And yet, for the first time, Aemond felt the foundations of his certainty falter. His hands trembled faintly as he set the letters aside, the crumpled edges a testament to the storm raging within him.

Pacing the length of the room, his mind churned. Were his fears unfounded? No, they couldn’t be. Not when Jacaerys's words were so plain, so brazen. Yet, deep in his chest, a whisper of doubt gnawed at him. Did he truly know you as well as he believed?

The thought clawed at his pride. Aemond paused, his fingers curling into fists as he wrestled with his frustration, his jealousy, and the painful shadow of uncertainty now cast over his mind.

The Valeyrons. To you they even feel entitled to. To his eye they felt entitled to you. It was clear in the arrogant tone he can hear as if Jacaerys himself was reading the letter aloud. The lofty prose his nephew promises you, the offer of refuge, the veiled promises of protection—all laid bare in the ink of a boy who thought himself noble, thought himself better. "Here I can assure you that your head will not be on a spike..."

If Jacaerys were to ever be King, he should be deemed Jacaerys the Hubris. (But he will not, Aemond knows this, for it is his foolish older brother who will sit the Iron Throne rather than his half-sister.) The conceited words seemed to burn Aemond. Did Jacaerys believe you were so weak, so naïve, that his words would sweep you away to Dragonstone?

(Maybe you were, it is why you have Aemond. It is how you look at him, with big innocent eyes that beg for your life and Aemond indulges in them.)

Aemond’s lip curled. It wasn’t just the content of the letters but their frequency—the familiarity they implied. The way Jacaerys wrote of shared moments, of private conversations, of flying on Vermax together. Aemond could practically hear the smugness in his nephew’s tone, feel the audacity of his offer to take you to the North or the Isle of Faces as though he had the right to show you the world.

…

15th day of the 7th moon of 129 AC

“Tell me what other stories can you tell?” Viserys felt like a child asking you for such trivial things as you sitting and watching him while he sits in a mixture of lukewarm water and breast milk, just as you instructed. Yes, Viserys wishes you had come along much sooner.

Perhaps you would’ve been able to save him from this terrible fate he now must endure, though why the gods curse him as such, he knows naught. (But Viserys does know. He knows it must be some punishment for his dear wife Aemma. How he misses his wife.)

“What stories would you like to hear?” Viserys thinks. When was the last time he had someone tell him stories, or even read them to him. Not since Alicent all those years ago he supposes.

“Tell me stories of your youth, or anything about yourself.” He settles. You are so very different and it almost feels refreshing to hear you. Yes, Viserys wishes you had come sooner. A calm yet determined soul you had. A soul perfect for his daughter, a soul perfect to stabilize the realm. Yes, Viserys knows he is much your senior but for a moment as you tell your stories as Alicent did to him all those years ago, he can imagine the Queen you would’ve been.

A Queen that would have never let him rot like this.

Or mayhaps even sooner, to save Aemma.

“Sometimes, my dreams come true. Small trivial things though. I dream a memory, and days later I will be in the memory, but as it plays out in the present.” You speak and Viserys' lone eye widens.

“Tell me more.” Viserys leaned against the tub, the cool metal pressing against his sensitive skin. “Do you dream of things to come, or only what was?” Were you a dreamer? A dreamer that was not a Targeyen, or mayhaps you were a dragonseed.

He watches you closely, his gaze lingering a moment longer than it should. The way your skin always seems to gleam in whatever light surrounds you, and whenever you move, it’s as though the very rainbow of the Seven is ingrained within you. Something about you is different, something that makes him feel as if you might be more than just a woman in his presence.“Both, I think. But it’s hard to say. Most are trivial moments. Other times, especially in times of sorrow, a feeling of déjà vu occurs.”

Viserys did not know what ‘déjà vu’ meant, so he ignored it. “The Targaryens…most think our power lies in controlling the dragons,” You are no Targaryen. He should not tell you. You are not heir to the Iron Throne. “It is a lie. We do not control dragons. Our power lies in the dreamers of our family.”

“Daenys the Dreamer.” He heard you murmur and he smiled nodding.

“Yes, you know the story?”

“Prince Aemond has told it to me.”

“My boy? I suppose he has always been one for the books. It seems only natural for two intellectuals to speak to one another.” Viserys smiled, but his mind wandered. If you were a dreamer, perhaps it would be best to unite such a soul into the family. Have a stronger line of dreamers. He glanced at you once more, a flicker of curiosity crossing his face.

“I had wished to be a dreamer, but alas,” he continued, his tone tinged with a quiet sadness. “Perhaps it was never meant for me... a king’s burden is not one for dreamers, after all.”

His thoughts began to drift, the weight of the crown and legacy pressing down on him. A dreamer. Could you be the one to change the course of this house? To alter the doom that was always foretold for the Targaryens? Viserys’s gaze fixed on you as if searching for something deeper, something more than the surface of your words.

Perhaps if you were a dreamer, a true one, you could save this house from the doom that waits. The dreamers had always foretold it, but could you be the one to change it?

Viserys's mind wandered, as it often did in these days of fading strength. The weight of his crown, the weight of the Targaryen legacy, felt like too much to bear, and yet he still clung to it, clinging to whatever semblance of control he could grasp. Perhaps this dreamer, this person who was so unlike him, could offer a spark of hope in a world that felt so very dim.

“Sometimes, the burden of a crown is not in the weight of the gold, but in the dreams that shape the future.”

“Kind words.” Viserys smiled. “Yet I feel as if I had no true trial nor tribulations. I find myself wishing that I had. After all, smooth seas never made a skilled sailor. Tis’ the favorite saying of the Sea Snake. A saying that I can understand. I do not think I am a skilled sailor and I am not fit to start trying now.”

“Sometimes, Your Grace, it is not the storms we endure that define us, but the quiet strength to rise again after the calm. Courage is not always found in great battles—it is in the small, quiet choices we make, day by day, to try again, even when the seas are still.” Yes, a fine Queen you could’ve made. A fine Queen you still could make if you were betrothed to his oldest grandson, but he had slighted the sea snake enough Viserys supposes.

“Have you ever given marriage a thought? What will you do once your act is passed?” He asked as he laid back into the warm waters.

“Briefly. In times of…weakness. In times when I find myself overwhelmed.” He heard you admit. The silence that followed was deafening. “Sometimes I imagine marrying a lord and living far from King’s Landing. Living in luxury that my lord husband will indulge me in. Living life never thinking of anyone else. It is a simple path, an easy path.”

“But?”

“But if not me, then who? If not now, then when? Sometimes you have to be the one to step up, even if others believe it’s not your place to begin with.” How noble you are. The embodiment of the ballads he hears of the strong and noble knights. Viserys does not doubt there will be a song written in your name. A song that will be sung throughout time.

There is a prickle of jealousy when he looks towards you, but it is damning to him. How could he hold such prejudice to you, one so noble and brave.

…

18th day of the 7th moon of 129 AC

Dear Jacaerys Velaryon,

I thank you for your concern for me, truly. It is comforting to know that I have someone who cares for me as you do. In truth I find myself everyday more willing to take your offer, but alas I cannot allow myself to. There is much to be done. I do not doubt the validity of your words and truthfully your kindness is ever humbling. However, to leave now, tempting as it may be, would be to abandon a game in which I have yet to place my final pieces. However, I will admit, the thought of retreating to a quiet life with you—watching movies, sharing stories, and even introducing your younger brothers to the oddities of my world—is a dream I would gladly entertain when the time is right.

Continuing on, I must ask for forgiveness for my imprudence but you promised me something before you left. I wish to make good use of it now. I would like you to commission portraits of the photos. You see, I find myself being homesick and I long to look at my family, but my phone has limited time, and I plan to have it for a lifetime. If I can be so shameless as to ask this of you, I would be eternally grateful.

(P.S-I have gone to see the weirwood tree. I am not a fan. It’s creepy. Why is it always staring at me!?)

…

20th day of the 7th moon of 129 AC

You are not from here. Aemond knows that much. You are not from here, but Aemond knows naught of where your origins lay. You are not from here and you seem as if you have always lived an eternity away from him which is strange, because he feels you against him yet you stare off.

You always stare off. Always traveling to a place where he cannot follow and it is starting to grate on him. It is starting to grate against Aemond that you have lived an eternity away from him, it is starting to grate on him that you cannot seem to let go of your past when he is here.

Why can you not let go when he has decided that your past is no longer relevant. The boy in the portraits that you hide under your bed is no longer relevant, your letter to Jacaerys will no longer be relevant.

Across the sea of time, you seem to forever drift, and it grates on Aemond because he offers you land—solid ground to anchor yourself—but you seem content to float endlessly in the unknown.

“I have to go,” you murmur, your gaze finally meeting him. Why is it that you only truly return to him when you must leave?

“Why?” he asks, his voice low but laced with frustration.

“Because your father demands my presence,” you reply, your tone quiet but resolute.

“Why?” he pressed, his eyes narrowing, as if demanding an answer beyond your words.

“I don’t know,” you admit, the faintest edge of exasperation creeping into your voice.

“Why?” His question lingers in the air, heavy and unrelenting, and for a moment, neither of you moves, suspended in the fragile silence.

Aemond watches as you break it, rising gracefully to dress yourself in the silks that his protection affords you. The fabric clings to your form, a subtle reminder of the safety he has provided, yet you seem distant, as if you’ve already drifted away.

“In any case, all is well,” you say, smoothing the fabric over your skin. “A recent turn of events has granted me favor with the High Septon.”

“How?” His voice is sharp, suspicious.

“A series of coincidences has deemed me a blessing from the Seven themselves.” That smile crosses your face again—the one that first drew him to you all those months ago. But this time, it’s different. There’s no bloodied lip, no evidence of your vulnerability. It’s a polished smile, practiced and untouchable, and it infuriates him in ways he cannot express.

“We will ride Vhagar tomorrow when you return,” he says, his tone firm, almost commanding.

“Why?” you echo, tilting your head as you fasten the clasp of your gown, curiosity flickering in your eyes.

“There are things that need resolving.” His gaze hardens, his meaning clear, though unspoken. There is a weight in his words, one that promises that whatever "resolving" he has in mind, it will not be gentle.

“Alright then.” With a final glance, you turned and left, leaving Aemond alone in your chambers once again. The sound of the door closing echoed in the quiet room, and for a moment, he simply stood there, staring at the space you’d vacated, his jaw tight.

After a moment, he moved. His steps were deliberate, his gaze sharp as he rounded the bed and knelt beside your strange bag. The remnants of your past—your secrets—were hidden here, carefully tucked away as if they could be forgotten. But Aemond would not let them linger in the shadows any longer.

Pulling the bag closer, he began to sort through its contents. The odd garments, the mysterious tools, the painted portraits on strange paper—they all spoke of a life he could not fathom, a world entirely separate from his own. His fingers brushed over one of the small, glossy portraits, his gaze narrowing as he studied it. It was you, smiling, carefree, standing beside a man he didn’t recognize.

The past needed to be resolved. It tethered you to something beyond him, something he could not control, and that grated against every fiber of his being. Aemond was not a man to share, not a man to be content with half-measures. If you would not let go of the past, then he would tear it away for you.

Gathering the items, he placed them back into the bag with methodical precision. His mind worked as swiftly as his hands, formulating the steps he would take. He would unravel this mystery, strip away the parts of you that resisted him, and ensure that you could no longer float aimlessly across that endless sea of time.

By the time you returned, there would be no past to haunt you. Only the future he had carved out—a future where you had no choice but to anchor yourself to him.

Standing, Aemond slung the bag over his shoulder. He turned to leave, his steps purposeful as he strode toward his chambers. The items in this bag held answers, and he intended to find them, no matter how deep he had to dig.

The door shut behind him with a soft click, and the faint scent of your perfume lingered in the air.

…

“I have been thinking of you, Your Grace,” you began, your voice calm and measured as Viserys watched you carefully mix your concoction. “About how you once said you wished for trials and tribulations to make your reign truly memorable.”

“Indeed,” he murmured, leaning back, intrigued by your words.

“Well… history is not only written by the Citadel,” you continued, glancing up briefly to meet his gaze. “The smallfolk remember too. ‘The axe forgets, but the tree remembers.’ Have you heard the saying?”

“I have not,” he admitted, tilting his head curiously.

“It’s a reminder, Your Grace, to be kind. Those who have been wronged will never forget it, even if the one who wronged them does. And right now, those who feel wronged are the smallfolk. I’ve visited them often. Their living conditions are abhorrent. If you could alleviate even some of their suffering, they would be forever grateful—and you would be remembered, not just in scrolls but in their hearts. The smallfolk are the foundation of a lasting dynasty.”

Viserys’s brows furrowed as he considered your words. “What would you have me do? They are lawless. I appointed Daemon once, and he managed to bring order, but when he left, they returned to their primordial state.”

“They lack even the most basic resources,” you explained, your tone firm yet respectful. “Even a lamb, content in its pasture, can turn into a hunter when cornered. Or, as you might see them, savages. But provide the lambs with proper protection, extend their pasture, and they will have no reason to act out of desperation. They will remain what they are meant to be—peaceful, grateful subjects. And in their eyes, you will be the shepherd who kept them safe.”

Viserys’s eyes softened, though uncertainty lingered. “And you believe this is achievable?”

“With the right measures, yes,” you said with a small nod, your voice steady yet laced with conviction. “The smallfolk need more than punishment for their perceived lawlessness. They need a reason to trust their king—to see him not as a distant figure in a tower, but as their protector. If you provide that, Your Grace, they will speak of you for generations.”

Viserys leaned back in his chair, your words lingering in the air. Protector. The notion struck a chord deep within him, stirring memories of his youth when he’d dreamt of ruling not just with power, but with compassion. He had envisioned himself as a unifier, a king beloved by his people, yet here he was, years later, presiding over a fractured realm with smallfolk who cursed his name more often than they praised it.

“And I suppose you are the one to bring me this solution?” he asked, a faint edge of skepticism in his tone.

“If you wish to hear it,” you replied without hesitation, your composure unyielding in the face of his doubt.

“Go on then,” he said, leaning forward despite himself, curiosity breaking through his habitual weariness.

“Where there is life, there is water. Clean water is invaluable—far more than gold or any riches you could offer. It is the foundation of health, of order, of life itself,” you began, your words precise, almost rehearsed.

Viserys arched his brow. “And?”

“I can give them that,” you stated plainly, your confidence unsettling in its certainty.

“How?” he asked, his fingers brushing the armrest of his chair as he studied you.

“A water system,” you explained. “I can design one. But I need help. I need to study everything that could possibly hold relevance to constructing it.”

Viserys frowned. A water system. It was such a simple idea, yet the implications of such a feat were monumental. Clean water in King’s Landing? In the city that had plagued him with its stench and disease? He had lived with its squalor for so long that the very thought of change seemed almost… foreign. Could it truly be done?

“Do you have a place in mind for such a study?” he asked after a pause, his voice laced with both intrigue and caution.

“I do, Your Grace,” you said.

“Where?”

“Winterfell,” you replied, your voice calm yet resolute.

Viserys blinked. Winterfell? Of all the places, why there? The North was distant, cold, and far removed from the politics of the capital.

“Winterfell?” he repeated, his tone laced with doubt. “You wish to travel to Winterfell?”

“I do,” You affirmed.

Viserys’s gaze drifted toward the fire crackling in the hearth. Winterfell. The seat of the Starks, the First Men. He had not set foot in the North since his tour when he was crowned King, but the memories of its ancient halls, its vast godswood, and its stoic people were vivid in his mind. The North had always seemed so unyielding, so untouched by the decay that plagued King’s Landing.

“And what do you hope to find there?” he asked, his voice quieter now, as if seeking reassurance.

“Winterfell was built atop a spring. I may be able to draw inspiration from Bran the Builder.” Viserys studied you. So much you have changed here, yet you ask for more, more and he has not been able to meet your first request. Despite it all, you too promise much. Could you truly deliver on such a promise? You stand here in front of him applying your remedy onto his skin standing with so much life, so much promise that it stirs a faint glimmer of hope within him—a dangerous thing for a man like him to feel.

“You ask for much,” he said finally, his voice heavier now, tinged with the weariness of a ruler who had seen too many grand promises crumble.

“Only what is necessary,” You countered, your gaze unwavering. “If you wish to be remembered as a king who cared for his people, who built something greater than himself, then this is the first step. The choice, as always, is yours.”

Viserys remained silent, her words sinking deep into the crevices of his mind. You offer to give him the reign he had wanted.

Could he afford to gamble on her vision?

Could he afford not to?

…

21st day of the 7th moon of 129 AC

“A fucking hill.” Your voice was sharp, laced with frustration as you gestured wildly at the map spread across your desk. Aemond barely spared you a glance as he disrobed, the soft rustle of fabric barely audible over your rant. “And it’s fucking tall. How the fuck am I supposed to get around that!?”

“Cease your theatrics, woman,” Aemond muttered, his tone low and clipped as he sank onto your bed. The room was suffocatingly sweet, the cloying scent you carried clinging to every surface. It made his head ache. It wasn’t natural. You weren’t natural. Nothing about you ever was.

“Woman?” You turned toward him, your hands still planted on the edge of the desk. “I have a name.”

Aemond’s single eye flicked to you, unamused, as if daring you to continue. He said nothing, his gaze steady, and he watched as you rolled your eyes in exasperation. Without hesitation, you pushed away from the desk and strode over to him, your movements deliberate, your presence impossible to ignore.

“You’ve been so mad recently. What's wrong?” Aemond felt your hands linger on his shoulders. You looked smelled so sweet that it was nauseating. The soft hands you had reflecting you’ve never once been put through hard labor. Those soft hands that cradled his face as you looked down on him. It wasn’t long before he felt your lips on the side of his. Lips that were coercing him to turn and meet you, hands that held him so lovingly, your body slowly encompassing his own. Everything about you was so sweet. “I know I’ve been doing nothing but complaining about the topography of the land. M’sorry.”

Aemond’s brows knit together at the unfamiliar word. Topography. It felt foreign, unnatural, like so many of the things you said. His frustration flared, and with a sharp exhale, he pried your hands from his face and unceremoniously pushed you back onto the bed.

Without sparing you a glance, he strode to your desk, his gaze falling on the map you had been fussing over. “What nonsense are you rambling about now?” he muttered, scanning the intricate lines and markings with narrowed eyes.

Topography?” Your tone grated against Aemond’s ears, piercing and condescending. It was a tone he knew all too well, one that haunted him before he claimed Vhagar. It was the tone the Strong bastards used, the tone his drunken brother wielded against him. And now you—someone with no title, no standing—dared to use it on him.

“It’s like… like, I don’t know. You just have to know?” You giggled, the sound light and careless, yet it landed on him like an insult. His jaw tightened, the muscle ticking with restrained anger. Have you always spoken to him like this? Him? A Prince of the Realm. A Targaryen.

“But basically,” you continued, oblivious to the storm brewing behind his eye, “it’s just… like… a map that shows the physical features of the land. Hills, mountains. The closer the lines are together, the steeper the slope of the hill. Stuff like that.”

Like. Basically. Stuff. The words felt beneath him, spoken with a lack of care or refinement he’d never tolerate from anyone else. His anger coiled tighter with every syllable. How dare you speak so unconcernedly before a prince, as if he were some common fool? A girl without rank, without even the most basic manners, speaking to him like this?

And yet, despite your audacity, you had humiliated him. The realization burned hotter than the fire in his chest.

Aemond’s fingers curled tightly at his sides as he stared at you, the map still spread out before him. You were completely unbothered, oblivious—or perhaps deliberately dismissive—of the offense you caused. Your casual demeanor only stoked the embers of his frustration, his pride demanding a response to put you in your place.

“How quaint,” he finally said, voice low and cutting, each word dripping with disdain. “Do you always explain things with such eloquence? Or is this condescension reserved only for me?”

You blinked, turning toward him with a frown that bordered on amused disbelief. “Condescension? I was explaining it to you.”

“Explaining?” he echoed, his tone sharpening. “No, you were speaking to me as though I were a child. A simpleton in need of your scraps of wisdom.” He stepped closer, towering over you as his single eye bore down into yours. “Do you forget who I am?”

You didn’t shrink under his gaze, which only added fuel to his growing ire. Instead, you tilted your head, defiance glinting in your eyes as a grin stretched across your lips—infuriatingly bold, maddeningly insolent.

“What in the mother—" You dragged the word out, the mocking lilt in your tone sending a fresh wave of heat coursing through Aemond’s veins. His hand twitched at his side, itching to silence you as your laughter spilled into the air, light and taunting.

“Fuck are you—”

“Hold your fucking tongue,” Aemond snarled, his patience snapping. His hand shot out, gripping your face with unrelenting force. His fingers pressed into the soft curves of your cheeks, silencing the laughter that grated against his ears.

Your wide eyes stared back at him, startled but not frightened—not yet. Aemond's grip tightened, his frustration boiling over into something darker, more dangerous. “You forget yourself,” he hissed, his breath warm against your skin. “You speak to a prince of the realm, and yet you behave as though you are untouchable.”

Your muffled words struggled against the hold of his hand, but Aemond didn’t loosen his grip. His teeth clenched as he leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a near-growl. “You will learn respect, even if I have to carve it into your tongue myself.”

His grip tightened as he shook your face, his fingers digging into your soft skin. He delivered almost taunting slaps to your cheek—not hard enough to hurt, but enough to remind you of his dominance. “That will be the first and last time you ever take such a tone with me. Do you understand?” His voice was a low, venomous hiss, each word dripping with restrained fury.

Aemond’s eye bore into yours, watching as tears welled along your waterline, threatening to spill over. Slowly, deliberately, he pushed against you, forcing you deeper into the bed. His mind was a chaotic void, his thoughts clouded by humiliation, betrayal, and the sharp sting of wounded pride. You had humiliated him—time and time again. You had fooled him, made him feel like a fool in front of himself and others. His patience had reached its breaking point.

Aemond wasn’t a bad person. He was a man who did what was necessary. A man who kept order, who upheld principles, even if it meant crossing lines others would not dare to approach. Aemond was merciful—he had given you time. A grace period. Time for you to explain yourself, to come clean about your secrets and lies. Time to confess why you wrote letters to his nephew, toyed with his older brother, and played coy with his father. But you had wasted that mercy, prancing around as if nothing mattered, as if your deceit would never catch up to you.

“Do you understand?” he repeated, his tone sharper, more insistent. He felt the warmth of your tears rolling down onto his hand as they spilled, unbidden, from your eyes. The sight stirred something he refused to acknowledge, something deep and unnerving.

You nodded, a trembling motion that seemed to sap the strength from your entire body. Aemond didn’t ease his grip immediately, his eye narrowing as if he needed to see the truth in your submission. Only when your tears fell freely, soaking into his palm, did he let go, pulling back with slow deliberation.

Standing up, Aemond towered over you, his gaze cold and calculating as he watched you shift away, retreating to the farthest wall as though distance alone could shield you from his wrath. Your tears began to fall freely now, silent but unrelenting, accompanied by soft sniffles that only seemed to echo in the room's stillness. He watched as you curled into yourself, shrinking into a protective shell, your arms wrapped tightly around your knees. The vulnerability you displayed should have stirred something in him, but Aemond forced himself to remain unmoved, even as the sight tugged faintly at the corners of his resolve.

He sighed heavily, brushing his hair back with one hand as his jaw tightened. He refused to meet your gaze, choosing instead to focus on the far wall as though it might grant him clarity. Your sobs were soft but persistent, and they grated against his composure. He felt them press against the edges of his self-control, an unwelcome reminder of how close he’d come to losing it entirely.

“Aemond, I am sorry,” you pleaded, your voice trembling as you struggled to regain your breath. “I didn’t mean it.”

He turned his head slightly, his single eye sharp as it cut back to you. His breathing was deliberate, measured, his chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm that contrasted starkly with your erratic, uneven sobs.

“Do not be coy with me,” he hissed, his tone laced with contempt. “I am not my father.”

“Look, I don’t know why you’re so mad, but I’m sorry,” you insisted, your voice cracking under the weight of desperation. “I promise I didn’t mean anything by it.”

Aemond’s expression darkened, his lips pressing into a thin line. He took a step closer, his boots heavy against the floor as he loomed over you. “Your love letters to my nephew will stop,” he declared, his words cutting through the room like a blade. “Should I hear of you sending letters to anyone without informing me, I will leave you.” He let the threat hang in the air for a moment, letting its weight settle over you before delivering the final blow. “And everyone will know of your misdemeanors.”

Your eyes widened at his words, a fresh wave of tears threatening to spill as you opened your mouth to protest, but no sound came out. Aemond felt a fleeting pang of satisfaction at your speechlessness, though it was buried beneath layers of frustration and mistrust. He straightened, his posture rigid and unyielding as he looked down at you with an air of finality.

…

1st day of the 8th moon of 129 AC

“I, King Viserys, First of my name, King of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm hereby pass the Patent Act of 129 AC.”

The proclamation hangs heavy in the air. A decree so alien to Westeros, so far removed from its traditions, that it almost feels as if a foreign king has taken the throne. The weight of the King’s words settles across the council chamber like an oppressive fog.

There doesn’t seem to be a happy face in the council. Not even yours, or perhaps you have just gotten better at hiding it. Ser Criston Cole does not know. He watches you with his sharp, calculating eyes, searching for a crack in your mask. But there is none.

The Hightowers contingent looks as if they’ve swallowed something bitter. Otto’s knuckles are white against the polished wood of the council table. Alicent sits perfectly still, her expression unreadable save for the tight line of her mouth. Only the soft rise and fall of her chest betrays her agitation.

“My King,” Otto finally speaks, his tone carefully measured but laced with disapproval. “This act… it is unprecedented. To allow individuals to lay claim to ideas, to inventions, is to invite chaos. It disrupts the natural order. The crown may find itself overwhelmed by disputes.”

Viserys, though frail, raises a hand to silence his Hand. “Enough, Otto. I have heard these arguments. Time and time again, I have heard them.” He leans back in his chair, his tired eyes flickering to you. “But the Seven Kingdoms cannot linger in the past forever. Progress must be made.”

You incline your head, a faint shadow of a smile ghosting across your lips. Ser Criston notes how carefully you control it, how you refuse to gloat in the face of victory. He wonders if that’s for the King’s benefit—or the Queen’s.

“And yet,” Rhaenyra’s voice cuts through the tension, soft but firm, (It is a sound that annoys him. A wound that refuses to heal.) “progress must be tempered with care. This act grants power to individuals, but power without restraint can lead to ruin. Who will oversee these claims? Who will ensure they do not conflict with the crown’s interests?”

The silence after the King’s words lingers, thick and suffocating. Ser Criston watches you carefully, noting the faint twitch of your lips as you nod without a word. His gaze hardens, ever wary of what it is you are truly playing at. He knows that beneath the calm, beneath your composed exterior, there’s something simmering. He just can’t place it.

“His grace sends me to Old Town to find a candidate.” You had won, and perhaps you knew you would all along, but Criston still doesn’t quite understand the depths of your plan. You, with no name, no true claim, standing before the council as though the world itself had bent to your will. (It had. You had bent everything to your liking and Ser Criston cannot help but feel a prick on envy. Why must it bend for you? You who had his exact standing but yet when he wanted to bend the rules, they did not bend for him and instead he was the one broken.) But now, as he watches you closely, he wonders if the weight of your victory has already begun to settle on your shoulders.

Your confidence has shifted. It’s a small thing, but Criston is a man who watches every detail, and it’s that shift he can’t ignore. Your silence is deafening to him. You speak but you are still so quiet. Nothing like the woman who spoke out against Prince Daemon.

“Yes, you leave tomorrow with two of my Kingsgaurd.” King Viserys adds and Ser Criston’s eyes flicker over to you. Your face remains impassive, only a nod is given.

“I should accompany you.” Alicent’s voice rings out. “It has been some time since I have visited. I long to see my son.” Ser Criston knows better. He knows his Queen, the hand he is sworn to.

There have been talks recently, talks of your enlightenment, when only a month ago,the High Septon used to scorn your name, he now praises it. Old Town is a strong hold of the faith.

Alicent does not want your pollution. Alicent does not want your ‘enlightenment.’

Note: After like forever, Aemond is finally gathering the pieces that shes not from Essos 💔 Anyways pls leave me your thoughts.

Previous I Next I Masterlist

To be added to Tag list: !(•̀ᴗ•́)و ̑̑

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sheyfu · 6 months ago

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"i love you."

"what do you want? a massage? food? money? orrrr do you have a fever right now, dan heng?" you place a hand on his forehead, trying to find out if he actually does have a fever or just really sleep deprived.

it's not everyday dan heng acts like this. heck, it's even weirder as you two haven't even gotten to that kind of relationship.

"your skin is cool, and you don't seem to need anything other than, uhm.. sleep?" scratching your head, you look at him dumbfoundedly, trying to find out what the hell was happening to dan heng.

"i love you." cold dragon young says with more conviction as he stakes a step closer to you.

now that's suspicious.

"uhmmmm.. are you really sure you're okay?" worriedly, you place your hand on his forehead again, double checking to see if he was actually okay. "dan heng, please tell me if you're not feeling well-"

"i love you. i love you so much i can't even take it. every time i see you, my heart skips a beat, my breath gets caught in my throat, my hands start shaking like some fucking washing machine. you're so beautiful. too beautiful to the point that i want to throw myself out of the express because my brain goes into overdrive like 'bazinga'. i love you so much. i love you so very much to the point where i want to give everything up just to take care of you. i want to give you flowers, i want to hug you, kiss you, dance in the rain with you-"

"okay, cut! what the hell was that, dan heng? i thought we were supposed to film an introductory video for the belobog music festival and not a confession video??" a confused march 7th asks in the distance---a deep, scarlet blush coating her cheeks as she processes what the fuck just happened.

"hmm. how romantic." welt yang nods his head in approval. clearly proud of his (son) friend.

"i never knew you could be this sappy, dan heng~" himeko lets out a giggle, clearly amused with his spontaneous confession.

"sigh" a tired pom-pom expresses, head low as they walk back to the conductor’s carriage.

"did pom-pom just say 'sigh' and then actually sighed?"

"not a word, trash bomb man!"

"damn pom-pom. what did i do to you?!" caelus drops to his knees as he bangs on the floor. crocodile tears flowing from his eyes as he takes in the "betrayal" of their dear conductor.

"a- anyways.. let's do this again, shall we? by again, i mean introducing yourselves and.. a- and not.. confessing?" letting out a nervous chuckle, march sets up her camera, preparing to take another shot.

meanwhile, both of you and dan heng are left to bask in each other's embarrassment.

"soooooo" you let out a nervous chuckle. "was that, you know, uhh, part of the script? did march give you the wrong script to mess with you?" looking at his face for answers, you're left disappointed as the same, uninterested expression stays on his face.

after a few moments of awkward silence, march finally calls out your attention.

thank god, march! if it weren't for you, i would've already called [omi] to swallow me whole!

"get ready! remember, an introduction video. have some decorum! we can't let the whole of jarilo-vi catch us lacking~ anyways, on the count of three. one, two-"

"i mean it by the way." dan heng cooly says as he returns back to his original position.

"three!"

"WHAT?!"

"hey! i thought i said decorum!"

well, having no decorum is better than accidentally confessing to your crush in front of your (parents) coworkers anyway. right, dan heng?

[omi] - part of mother yn's kit; a void she can summon to eat her enemies up (kinda looks like ix and is very cutesy pie mhm)

#🐈‍⬛️.notepad #dan heng #hsr #honkai: star rail #hsr x reader #honkai star rail x reader #dan heng x reader #guys idfk what this is #pulled this outta my ass #anyways enjoy?+*@?

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anemhoez · 1 year ago

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Lunae…

Dan Heng/Reader

WARNINGS: unprotected sex (use protection, even with dragons) and language

A/N: this one’s for the real cultured freaks out there 🫵 we ARE gods strongest soldiers 🫡

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!

“Are you even comfortable here?” you asked Dan Heng, his eyes scanning the screen in front of him. He reached out and tapped the screen, inputting the latest information from your mission into the data bank. “Did you hear me?” your voice a few octaves louder now. Dan Heng smirked, “I did, I just don’t know what you’re talking about?” You simply pointed to the mat on the floor, his comforter and pillow strewn about. “Its a bed, why would I be uncomfortable on it?” You sighed and went over to the screen he was just tapping on. “It’s hardly a bed,” you pulled up the file he just created to review it, “mine is way more comfortable.” The words slipped out of your mouth without much thought, your focus on the text in front of you. “Hmph.” the small sound coming from the man behind you made you realize what you had just said. “What I mean is, I actually have a real mattress!” your face got hot out of nowhere and you tried your best to seem aloof.

Dan Heng stayed quiet as you spoke, “I’m not like, inviting you to sleep in it or anything.” He smiled and walked over to you, his fingers brushing past the screen to close the file. “You sure?” He always kept his responses short, but it always made an impact on you regardless. You figured it was because you had feelings for him. “What I’m trying to say is, you should try to take better care of yourself,” you moved your hands to tug on his jacket, the small gesture making you unsure of your proximity to him.

The two of you admitted to liking each other a few weeks ago after a very close call during a mission. Dan Heng was badly hurt, the Trailblazer and March 7th doing their best to fight off the fragmentum creature ambush as you tended to him. “You fucking idiot,” you cursed as you did your best to heal his wounds with your gifts of abundance, “why did you just jump in front of me like that?!” The glow from your hands reflected on his skin as you looked into his eyes. “Because I care about you, more than normal.” His wounds began to seal shut, a groan of pain escaping his mouth. “Well, the feelings mutual.” you brought your hands to rest on your lap once you were done. Dan Heng sat up, his piercing eyes meeting yours. It was quiet for what felt like hours, but in reality it was only a few seconds before the two of you leaned into one another and kissed. The two of you kissed passionately, only being stopped by March’s voice screaming, “I knew it!”

You remember that kiss fondly, but its been a while since it happened, and you weren’t sure if the two of you still had that connection . You liked him a lot but, didn’t want to seem too clingy. He keeps his feelings to himself most of the time, so you were never really sure how to approach him. “Have you been well?” he asked awkwardly breaking the silence. You couldn’t help but giggle, “Yes, I’ve been well, you?” He reached down and took your hands in his, intertwining your fingers together. “I’ve been thinking about, that kiss.” You suddenly felt anxious, wondering where he’d take the conversation from here, maybe he didn’t really like you after that. “What about it Dan Heng?” your voice was practically a whisper, your heart beating faster as he moved in closer. “it was, better than I had imagined.”

Your heart skipped a beat and you wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him closer to you. Your lips brushed against one another, a small chuckle coming from him. You closed the gap, letting yourself melt against him. Your lips melded together in a fervor as you finally got to kiss him again. His hands came to your waist, his grip tight as he pulled you closer. Your hands moved from around his neck and trailed down his tight and toned body. You moaned against his lips, pulling away to look at him, “Do you want to,” your hands stopped at the hem of his jeans. He pulled you back in for a kiss, his hands on your waist squeezing harder before they came to cup your rear. He pulled away, his lips wet and swollen, “Absolutely.” he whispered and began kissing you all over your face. You laughed and started to unbutton his pants, your gut stirring as he continued to kiss you while you reached down and took a handful of him. You screamed internally, his cock semi erect already, letting you know right away that he did want you as bad as you wanted him. You pulled away from him, keeping eye contact as you freed his member from its confines and got down on your knees. “Someone’s eager,” he teased and you watched his jaw go slack as you took his tip into your mouth. His hand came to the back of your head immediately, pushing you further onto him as you took more of him in. Your mouth salivated heavily around him, your core aching as if you could already feel him inside of you.

You bobbed on his long shaft up and down, looking up at him through your lashes, your hands on either one of his thighs. He looked down at you with a cocky smirk, his eyes slowly began to change color to a paler blue. He grunted deeply, his eyes closing shut tightly. You pulled off of him, saliva dripping from your mouth. “Are you ok?” you asked worried if you had hurt him in some way. “Yes, please don’t stop.” he opened his eyes, the usual grayish blue color was back. “I don’t know if I’m hallucinating but, it looked like your eyes changed color,” you said as you pumped him in you hand. Dan Heng shook his head with a chuckle, “Really, how strange.” he said and took off his jacket, his shirt soon meeting the fabric on the floor. The man before you looked down and gently thrusted into your hand, “You’re probably just seeing things, ahh!” he threw his head back as he moaned.

Aeons everything about him was gorgeous. The soft outlines of his abs, the veins that decorated his arms and hands, and those eyes of his. Those piercing eyes of his that bored through you as he looked down at you. He could convince you to commit war crimes right now with that look, “You’re probably right.” you stuttered out before taking him back into your mouth. Your tongue flattened under his shaft as you took him in fully, his tip hitting the back of your throat. “Fuck,” he huffed out, the sensation causing him to buck against you, causing you to gag on him in response. He took a handful of your hair, tugging on it gently, “I need to be inside of you soon.” His words hit your core like a crashing wave, your moans loud as you worked. You reached a hand into your pants, dragging your wetness from your core to your clit and rubbed hard. The sight of you, the way you were pleasuring yourself while sucking him off was way too much and his eyes changed color again, faster this time.

You watched as blue horns began to sprout from his forehead, the shock of what you just watched made you move back and off of him. “Horns?!” you yelped, catching a glimpse of his now longer hair. “And hair?!” your eyes then went to his dick, well, dicks, “AND COCKS?!”Dan Heng turned away from you, muttering something under his breath. He looked back at you, “Sorry, I’m trying to go back to my usual self but, I’m too excited” He adjusted himself back into his pants and reached for his shirt, “I understand if you’re, disgusted.” You stood up and took his hand, “Im not disgusted, I’m just surprised.” You looked at him closely, his face the same despite his eyes and horns. “You’re still the same Dan Heng.” He sighed, moving to lean against the rail that separated his bed area from the rest of the room. “Its complicated but yes, its still me.”

You moved closer to him, your hand rested on his back. You rubbed his back up and down, feeling the small scales that now textured his skin. “You really are the mysterious type huh?” you teased and moved in for a kiss. Your lips met, the tongue in his mouth now forked, but you didn’t pull away and simply moved your tongue along his. When you eventually pulled away though, he looked at you dearly, searching for something in your eyes.“I’ll tell you everything one day, its just, “ he rolled his eyes and sighed again. “Hey its ok, this doesn’t change how I feel about you.” you said trying to reassure him. You moved to bring your arms around his neck, “i’m just worried about you, fitting inside me with, those.” Dan Heng smiled and rested his forehead against yours, “Are you actually, open to that?” he kissed your lips, and licked a path from them to your neck. “Of course, I want you.” His hands came to your pants and he quickly undid them and pulled them down. “Alright then.” he helped you out of the fabric and grabbed you by your thighs, “I’ll have to get you ready then.”

While pulling you closer, he sat on the floor, then lay down on his back. You took the hint and moved to sit on his face. He moaned upon you resting on his mouth, his tongue quickly lapping you up. You pulled off your shirt, finally completely bare in front of him for the first time. He watched as you grabbed your breasts and squeezed them, rolling your nipples between your fingers. His strong hands held you close, his slightly sharper nails digging into your skin. “Dan H-Heng,” you huffed, the pleasure between your legs building. You threw your head back, grinding your hips against his face, reaching behind you to rest your hands on his stomach. His tongue was wrecking you, the forked muscle taking your bud in between it, only to round his lips against it to suck hard. “Aeons,” you cried out, practically bouncing on him, needing more to reach the climax you were chasing. He slurped and sucked, graciously eating you out and licking you like your very essence was ambrosia to him. You felt it. that familiar rush starting to wash over you, your hips grinding faster and harder. You moved your hands from his stomach suddenly reaching forward and grabbing onto his horns tightly as you finally came.

“Ah!” your voice cracked, your body hot from the rush and the look in his eyes as he drank you deep. You let go of his horns, realizing what you did as you moved off of him. “Sorry about that,” he sat up, kissing your mouth immediately. You tasted yourself on him, his breath was heavy as he pulled away, “Don’t be, that felt amazing.” He reached down and pushed his fingers into you, your folds extra messy from your fluids. “Can I touch them again?” He inserted another finger into you, looking at you without a word as he pumped his fingers into you, “Sorry is that weird?” your hips moved against his ministrations. He laughed, “Not at all,” he pulled his fingers out of you and put them in his mouth. He moaned as he licked you off of him. “Go ahead.” he said and reached out to touch your breasts. You moved in and took each horn in your hands. They were hard and slightly cold in your hands, you wondered just how sensitive they were.

You felt compelled to kiss them, so you pecked them softly, starting from the base going up to the rounded tip. The sound that came from his mouth was unlike anything you’ve ever heard, almost like a whine mixed with the sudden loss of breath. You flicked your tongue out, licking long stripes up them. He pulled you closer, his mouth taking one of your nipples in his mouth to muffle the sounds he was making. You continued licking them, teasing them slowly with long sloppy strokes. The horns were slick enough now, and you took one of them into your mouth and sucked. “For Aeons sake!” he yelled and pulled you off and onto your back. This was the most emotion you’d had ever seen from him and fuck was it sexy.

He pulled his cocks out of his pants, lining them up and slowly, agonizingly slowly pushing them into you. “Ahh!” your voice cracked and hitched in your throat, the stretch he was providing almost too much for you. He looked at your face, stopping and trying to gauge your reaction. “Are you-“ he said worried it was too much, too fast. “Just fuck me already!” you pleaded, your eyes half lidded and filled with lust, drool started to drip from one of the corners of your mouth.

Dan Heng continued with your pleading in his ears, your praises about how good he felt aiding in the build up of his peak. He pushed further, soon bottoming out inside of you. He leaned down, his dicks nestled deep inside of you as he came in for a kiss. “Thank you,” his voice was soft, his kisses hard and needy. You kissed him back, sucking and biting on his lips as he thrust in and out of you. He took you by the hands and pinned them above your head, the kiss sloppy and wet, his thrusts picking up speed as his balls slapped against your ass. You moaned loudly, the pleasure so intense and unlike anything you’ve felt before. The feeling of being so full like this, you were certain you’d get addicted to it. “M-More.” you pleaded, wanting even more of what he had to offer, “Harder Dan Heng, please!”

He sat up, pulling you by your thighs, fucking you so hard the sounds reverberated against the walls. Dan Heng’s moans grew louder, a flash of blue appeared behind him, a long dragons tail whipped around behind him. He really had more tricks up his sleeve, huh? You felt the appendage pick you up gently off of the floor, his hands on your hips bringing you to sit on him. “You’re amazing, so fucking amazing.” you huffed out and he smiled against your lips.

His tail felt like light pulses of electricity against your skin, adding to the sensitive sensations you were feeling all over. From this position, and being stuffed so full, you let him do the rest of the work, and he gladly took the lead. He thrusted up into you, his cocks hitting your cervix, brushing against your spot deliciously. The end of his tail rubbed your cheek, coming to your lips and tapping as if it was asking for entrance. You opened your mouth, the semi solid state of it moving in and out with the aid of the saliva that dripped from your mouth. Dan Heng had never had anyone this fully, this close and loving every inch of his dragon form, he felt incredible. With your pussy and mouth filled, you let him use you as a sleeve, your hands coming to his horns once again, holding on for dear life as you moaned deeply, your climax finally washing over you. You clenched down onto Dan Hengs two dicks, his thrusts halting, his orgasm overtaking him right along with you. He growled out, the scales on his body convulsing as he came into you. “Aeons,” you huffed out softly as his tail disappeared with a flash.

He held you close, his chin resting on your shoulder, hands resting on your lower back. You rubbed your hands against the scales on his back, bringing your mouth to his ear to kiss and whisper sweet praises to him. Dan Hengs dragon form slowly began to fade, his horns disappearing and the full feeling inside of you diminishing. You moved back to look at him, his eyes softer now as he admired you from this position. “Lets go to bed,” you kissed him before getting off of him. his seed gushed out of you as you stood up. “Theres so much of it, wow.” He stood up and rummaged through his clothes to find a towel. He came back to you and knelt down before you, gently cleaning himself off of you. “Don’t you mean, go to floor?” he said with a smile and you laughed at his one designated joke a day.

The two of you now clean and laying down cuddled together closely, his hand rubbing your head softly. “You don’t have to tell me anything until you’re ready.” you said as sleep began to overtake you, tired from getting fucked senseless by your crush. You’d never in a million years guess this was the secret Dan Heng was hiding. He pulled you even closer to him, wrapping his other arm around your stomach. He simply kissed your forehead as his form of response and followed you into a deep slumber. Joining the Astral Express continued to prove to be the greatest adventure you’d ever taken in your life, and now you had someone to share it with.

A/N: HE’S FINALLY HOME! Thought this up after finally noticing the place where Dan Heng sleeps in that data room 😭 i fucking love him so much, PLEASE GET HIM A REAL BED WELT!

#honkai star rail #honkai star rail smut #dan heng #dan heng x reader #honkai star rail x reader #looking at his horns and tail they are like transparent #but i think yall get it lol #honestly?#obsessed with him #WELT GET THAT MAN A DAMN BED!!!

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yamnjamslam · 2 months ago

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hello friends, i'm posting this here because i don't have an ao3 acc yet and i'm spiraling over the fact that emmrich was 7th in the most romanced poll!! so, here's a purely self-indulgent drabble with my antivan crow rook cairo de riva (pictured in my pfp) tyvm (:

this takes place after the events from the game so beware spoilers!

_____________________________________

classes at the grand necropolis were in full session. mourn watch apprentices hailing from all corners of thedas gathered into the capacious lecture hall for a talk by the famous professor emmrich volkarin. the senior necromancer was more than eager to jump right back into teaching after being a member of the team that defeated the elven gods and ended the blight. as much as he had loved the adventure and the friends he made during that time, he always felt most comfortable in the walls of the necropolis doing what he truly loved, educating the up-and-coming generation of young scholars. the rows of seats were completely full by the time the talk was about to begin. the voices that were chattering about silenced as soon as a tall slim man approached the lectern.

“good evening everyone! i am professor emmrich volkarin, some of you may know me and others might not. no matter, i am more than excited to get to know you all this year and teach you everything you need to know about the wonders of the fade, spirits, and how to hone your skills in necromancy!” the professor’s voice protruded through the lecture hall, echoing off the walls so that even those in the far back could hear him. emmrich proceeded to approach the wide chalkboard that was in the center of the room and scribble down some important terms and diagrams.

cairo couldn’t understand a single thing that was being taught but was enjoying it all the same. being that he was the only one there that wasn’t part of the mourn watch, he was obviously not the target demographic for what he deems “this nerd shit”, but he was there nonetheless. he had probably heard the same lectures from the professor back at the lighthouse when cairo would barge into the man’s tower, take a seat at his desk, and demand to be educated. he loved seeing emmrich’s passion for his craft, the way his eyes lit up when one of his student’s raised their hand to ask a question, or the “wow”’s from the crowd when he performed an astonishing demonstration.

but, what the crow was really there for was the whispers from the crowd. he had developed a particularly keen sense of hearing throughout his time as an assassin so he was able to tune into the gossip that was circulating through the lecture hall while the professor spoke. most of the idle chatter was students discussing the topic amongst themselves or proposing thoughtful questions to one another in the hopes of asking for more clarification. however, some comments that floated to his ears intrigued him. “i heard the professor rejected the offer to become a lich!”, “yeah, apparently he did it to save that skeleton companion of his that’s always roaming around the necropolis…”, “ohh, well that’s understandable”. cairo had to agree with that one.

“the professor was part of the veilguard right?”, “yes! he fought beside lucanis dellamorte, first talon of the crows… ugh he’s so hot…” cairo had to hold in his laughter when thinking about how the first talon was probably sitting in the dellamorte villa right now, sipping a steaming hot coffee, completely unbothered, while being swooned over by a poor delusional mourn watch apprentice. priceless. “what? have you seen taash the dragon hunter? they can swing an axe to my head and i’d thank them!” cairo thought about the fact that taash was probably out in rivain right now, rummaging around a dragon lair, sweat dripping down their forehead from the harsh sunlight, probably daydreaming about throwing harding on their bed and… oh no, he couldn’t even imagine it, it was way too graphic.

“do you think the professor would ever have a relationship with one of his students?” now it was really getting good… “i dunno, don’t you think he might have a wife at home or something? he just seems like husband material for sure,” oh they were damn right about that. cairo was a malewife emmrich supremacist if he did say so himself. “you think he might be into guys instead?” one of the apprentices joked. cairo almost laughed aloud that time.

when the crow idly glanced at the clock, he realized two hours had gone by and the professor was already making his final statements. finally, it was his time to shine. suddenly, as emmrich was walking back to the chalkboard, an object flew across the lecture hall at the speed of light, landing just a hair away from the man’s head. the entire room gasped in surprise and began frantically looking around for the culprit who had disappeared like a shadow through all the commotion. the professor, eyes widened in shock, turned his head to gaze upon the cause of his near-death. when he observed it further, he noticed it was a dagger with a familiar design on the handle and a sticky note taped to the sharp end. emmrich released a breath he didn’t know he was holding as soon as he saw what was written: the words “i love you” scribbled inside a poorly drawn heart. he couldn’t tell if his own heart was beating out his chest from affection or the thought of his almost murder.

with a bejeweled hand, the professor pulled the dagger out of the chalkboard and placed it onto the lectern, “i apologize for the brief… intermission. however, that is the end of the lecture for the day, i hope to see some of you around the necropolis and feel free to come to me with any inquiries you might have! thank you”. he announced with a kind smile. the lecture hall erupted into voices as the apprentices packed up their things to leave and resume their studies elsewhere. they filtered out one by one until the capacious room grew quiet and only one occupant was left…

emmrich took a deep breath to compose himself before… “rook!” he called out loudly. promptly, cairo jumped down from the rafters and landed steadily on his feet, a wide grin gracing his features, “how’d you know it was me?” he teased as he leaned against the lectern, arms crossed over his chest. the professor rolled his eyes, “i don’t know many other crows who would write such a thing on their knives,” he replied. cairo couldn’t help but laugh, “awe come on, lucanis loves you too,” he joked, slipping the knife into his fingers and twirling it around with ease. “he’s also busy being the first talon… speaking of which, hasn’t he given you any orders yet?” emmrich questioned curiously. cairo tapped the dagger against his temple as if he was lost in thought, “hmm, now that you mention it… there might be one or two…” he admitted with a playful wink. emmrich’s jaw dropped and his eyes thinned at his lover, “darling… you can’t keep doing this!” he protested. cairo scoffed loudly, “look, i was lucanis’s boss before this, there’s no way i’m gonna take orders from that freak. and i say that with the most love in my heart” he chuckled as he spun the blade on his finger.

“oh my… well then, he was right when he called you a menace,” emmrich teased. cairo threw his head back with a laugh, “and you love it,” he replied, pointing his dagger at the man. emmrich nodded his head with a chuckle before changing the subject, “so, what did you think of the lecture, dearest?” he questioned, turning around to start erasing the chalkboard as another professor would be needing it later. cairo leaned across the lectern, “well i learned that lucanis and taash have some avid fans and that your students have been questioning your love life,” he responded. emmrich’s eyes widened, “what did they say?!” he gasped. cairo bit his lip and acted as if he was struggling to remember, “i believe one asked if professor volkarin would be interested in dating a student… then the other shot back by arguing that he might have a wife at home since he’s so “husband material”, and the last one wondered if he might be interested in guys. all very good questions which i’m also curious about… so what’s your answer professor?” he revealed with a shameless grin. emmrich’s cheeks grew pink out of embarrassment, “instead of asking such silly questions they should have been focused on the lecture!” he denounced, his erasing becoming more aggressive. cairo merely watched in amusement at his lover’s flustered expression and admired how cute he looked, “what’s the matter? scared to talk about your relationship?” he joked.

upon hearing that, emmrich froze up, his hand completely coming to a stop and his breath hitched. the crow’s eyebrow rose in confusion at the sudden change of attitude, wondering if he might have said something wrong. soon enough, the senior necromancer had placed the eraser down and turned to look at cairo with sorrow in his eyes, “i’m aware that was only a joke but… dearest, you know i wouldn’t want to hide our relationship unless it was absolutely necessary, right?” he confessed, stepping closer to take the male’s hand into his own. the coldness of the the jewerly that adorned emmrich’s hand felt familiar and comforting as cairo intertwined their fingers, “i know… i get it, not everyone is understanding of the age gap.. i told you, i’ll be here no matter what so… you know, whenever you’re ready, there’s no rush” he asserted, his normally playful demeanor vanishing for the moment as his expression grew serious. emmrich’s heart fluttered at the sentiment, he was overjoyed to have found someone he can forge a serious, healthy, and hopefully long-lasting relationship with, something he had never thought he could achieve in all his years.

“darling…” he uttered as he stepped even closer so their bodies were almost touching. cairo’s eyes thinned as a teasing smile returned to his features, “you sure you wanna do this in a lecture hall, professor?” he questioned. emmrich looked around at the rows of empty chairs, then to the clock to make sure it wasn’t time for the next class to start. once he had confirmed they would be safe for the moment, he leaned in and softly pressed their lips together. cairo was quick to reciprocate, wrapping his arms around the taller man’s neck and rising on his tippy toes to deepen the kiss. after a few moments, the two leaned back for air and the shorter male rested back on his heels. as they stared into each other’s eyes, they couldn’t keep smiles off their faces, happy to be able to spend precious moments like this together after all they had been through. “i love you,” emmrich whispered, wanting only the male in front of him to hear despite there being no one else in the room. cairo chuckled, “and neve called me the sappy one,” he teased, sticking his tongue out playfully. the professor rolled his eyes before joining his lover in laughter.

“ROOK!” a familiar voice shouted from not too far away as the couple was busy lost in each other’s gazes. at the sudden interruption, cairo quickly unwrapped his arms from the man’s neck and shuffled away while emmrich did the same, both pretending to look unbothered after being caught red-handed. however, when they looked towards the source of the voice, they both released breaths they didn’t know they were holding, “manfred?! you scared the shit out of us…” cairo choked back a laugh as he watched the skeletal apprentice skitter over to the front of the room to stand beside the professor. emmrich placed a hand to his rapidly beating heart and wiped imaginary sweat from his brow, “thank goodness it was just you manfred… what have you been up to?” he questioned, noticing that the skeleton’s robes were slightly more singed than they had been before. “FIRE!” manfred shrieked as he summoned two small flames from the palms of his hands and waved them around vigorously. cairo and emmrich exchanged worried parental glances at each other before emmrich took the skeleton’s wrist bones into his hands and placed them at his sides, “manfred, what did i say about using your fire so recklessly? come, i must go speak to myrna and vorgoth about this…” he sighed before motioning manfred towards the exit of the lecture hall.

cairo watched the two figures approach the door before emmrich turned and met his eyes with a smile, “darling, will you be coming over for dinner?” he called out inquisitively. the crow twirled his dagger with a smirk, “if the first talon doesn’t chew me out for too long, then yes,” he chuckled, “but if not, you know i always have room for dessert,” he winked teasingly, fully aware of what he was doing. the professor with cheeks as red as ventaori robes promptly rushed out the door with manfred in tow and cairo was left by his lonesome, giggling to himself over how cute his lover is.

end.

#dragon age #dragon age the veilguard #veilguard spoilers #datv #datv spoilers #datv rook #da: the veilguard #da veilguard #veilguard rook #emmrich volkarin #dragon age emmrich #emmrich x rook #da4 emmrich #antivan crows #rook

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as-thra · 3 months ago

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Aslan's parents :]!!! Charlotte Astolfo and Arthur Aureus during their student years <33

aureus lore stuff under the cut!!!!

Charlie and Art stuff first, Arthur went to Hogwarts and is a ravenclaw while Charlotte's an exchange student from Durmstrang, she attended Hogwarts from 5th-7th year

Both being purebloods with family traditions to uphold (yikes) they've had their own arranged marriages since before they were even born, then they fell in love with each other and went to ask both their parents to break previous engagements only to be informed that the engagement was with each other anyway IT WAS GOING TO BE ANGST BUT THIS WAS FUNNIER OK

Arthur's a dragons nerd and Charlotte captured one for him during their 7th year . Arthur n Sully then spent the day nerding out n riding the dragon around

Charlotte's bi and Arthur's pan!!!!!

THEY ALSO LOVE ASLAN SO SO MUCH AND THEY ARE VERY GOOD PARENTS!!!! HE LOVES THEM JUST AS MUCH

aslan is so his parents' son

aslan was a very sweet baby n they loved dressing him up in fancy clothes because they think its so cute ndndke, he was easy to take care of too if you ignore the accidental magic he'd be casting as a literal infant-toddler

OK MORE GENERAL AUREUS STUFF, their line is . a literal line that can be traced straight back to midas directly, maintaining pureblood status by traveling all around the world for their marriages just to avoid incest mdnsjed

it was done in an attempt to keep their magic "untainted" n as powerful as possible by mixing a shit ton of other magical blood into theirs (am!au note: they're doing this bc a time god said so, said time god is literally evanescoed winnie just in case ppl have missed the am post ab that msndjd)

and while they were successful with that there are still consequences!!!!!! down their line they had to limit their heirs to three then two then just one because they can see how many aureus running around could potentially be Bad considering the result of their selective marriages are literal children with more and more magic to the point it was possibly destructive

like with aslan!!! he had been casting spells from the crib, grew up with so much accidental magic, it also going haywire from time to time, the chances of each spell being accidentally cast with excessive magic and Going Wrong, literally the magical rebounds that caused scars climbing up his hands and arms!!! had to get those limiting rings he always wears to prevent his hands getting fucked up further

besides that! more about the heirs :] the women in their line had always and forever kept the aureus name, they were just as valued as the men and held as much power and respect, why would you take power from your own heirs after all

Arthur's mom was one of them :] Ahilya Aureus 🫶🫶

They've also just never believed in pureblood supremacy either HELDONEB they're only doing this because a time god told them to and eventually it was wueheeueeuhe yeah time god but also its Tradition now and meemaw would be upset no one wants that

And really as long as there was a child to carry the line it didn't matter what they went on to do, lots of queer ppl in their lineage n they were all adored!!! there would've definitely been some that even ended up with muggles n muggle borns tbh

they literally do not care they just want a magic baby

anyway main takeaway about the Aureuses: Descended from King Midas the guy with the golden touch thing, kids having more n more magic output til it's literally rebounding on them, have traveled the entire world and definitely has a cousin in almost every country 👍👍👍👍

#i was going to do background but i thought i'd die so i didn't #lion and lioness... i always did use lions as refs for the aureuses HEHEJDND #GOOD LORD THIS IS LONG SO SORRY that's probably not all we discuss our ocs so much i probably forgot some things help #aureuses 🫶🫶#silly guys #hpma oc #charlotte aureus #arthur aureus #am!au #lore stuff :]]]]

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wellthebardsdead · 10 days ago

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*a follow up from an unexpected big sisters comfort*

———

Evalien: *sitting still as Irileth braids her hair after cutting it up to her thighs* wouldn’t it be better if it was shorter? I have to hide my face don’t I? It’ll be easier to keep it under a hood that way right?

Irileth: having long hair brings forth a surprising number of advantages for the path that lies ahead of you, Dragonborn. But, I can cut it shorter if you wish.

Evalien: I… I don’t know…

Irileth: then we’ll just leave it this length until you decide. Besides, you’ll be thanking me when a pack of wolves or a Sabre cat is upon you and you need to divert their scent trail. It can act as a makeshift tourniquet or rope. And should you need to, it’s always an alluring tool to trick men into using their, other, head.

Evalien: oh gods I hope it never comes to that.

Irileth: don’t worry, if you can take down a dragon you’ll have no trouble handling wolves and the rest of skyrims wildlife.

Evalien: I was talking about the men.

Irileth: so was I~

Evalien: Oh-

Irileth: *finishes the braid* there we are, all done. *helps her up and walks her back to the bed, tucking her back beneath the furs and taking the now empty tray of food* the Jarl has organised a house for you and your companions within the city, *looks to the door as Lydia enters* Ah, and this is your new housecarl, Lydia, one of the finest warriors within the hold.

Lydia: *wide eyed staring at Evalien, having heard the whispers of her being a Dwemer but not believing it until now* it’s an honour to serve you, Dragonborn, I am your sword and your shield.

Evalien: about- that… can… can you- teach me to fight? I’ve scraped by by sheer luck at this point…

Irileth: why bother with a blade or bludgeon when you can do what you did to that dragon? You crushed it into itself just by… screaming at it.

Evalien: I know but- I don’t know how to control that magic and this Thuum thing is still new to me and if I run out of magic I can’t just replenish it like other elves can… once I’m out of juice I’m out until I have a few days to rest or drink a bunch of potions and frankly they all taste just- god awful.

Irileth: well-

Lydia: *looks at Evalien and sees the way she’s looking at irileth* I think it’s a great idea. She can use a practiced opponent to face and I can get an idea of how I can aid her in combat before any actual danger rears its head.

Irileth: *sighs* I suppose you’re right.

*the next day*

Taliesin: to think those shackles once contained a dragon…

Marigold: they must’ve been enchanted… for the love of the gods I hope they were at least or that dragon mustn’t have been able to breath fire. This entire palace is made out of wood.

Flynt: *munching on his 5th meal of the morning* mm?

Marigold: oh we’re up here because our new brave and fearless leader insisted on wasting her time swinging weapons around like a barbarian.

Taliesin: *a little too overprotective of Eva having been reminded of his sisters by her* She’s just making sure she can protect herself- *watches her picking out a weapon* maybe something- smaller?

Evalien: *hand covering over the warhammer* … *takes it and blinks at how surprisingly lite it feels in her grasp* huh?…

Irileth: a warhammer? For such a small frame I thought you’d pick a sword at least. Alright then, swing at the dummy and let me see what you’re made of.

Marigold: this should be interesting~

Evalien: *rears back the hammer and swings, snapping the heavy wooden pole of the training dummy and sending it flying over the balcony and out of the city walls themselves* OOOOOOOOOOOOOH MY GOD IM SO SORRY-

Lydia: okay, it seems the best way I can help is by reaching the targets first and or pleading with them to save themselves.

Taliesin: *whispers to marigold* still want to hold onto that attitude about what she’s capable of?

Marigold: nope-

Flynt: *now on his 7th helping, blind, completely clueless* huh??

#Evalien Dragonborn #marigold immediately loses all bias against physical weapons after that lol #skyrim taliesin #irileth skyrim #marigold Dragonborn #flynt Dragonborn #lydia skyrim

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ray-does-witchcraft · 1 year ago

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2024 Attic Calendar - January

Currently working on my own version of the adapted Attic calendar! So far I only have January, but February is almost done as well. Fair warning, this goes in depth about what the festivals/celebrations are and how to commemorate, so this post is gigantic. Attention: This is for the SOUTHERN HEMISPHERE!

⛧ [10/01/24] [Hekatombion 40th] - Hekate Deipnon

WHAT IS IT & WAYS TO CELEBRATE: It takes place at the end of the Lunar month. Hekate means "bringer of light", so at the darkest part of the month, we prepare our homes for the transition to a new month and offer her a meal. Think of it as a mini new year; clean/cleanse your house (especially altars), get rid of things you don't want to bring into next month (physical, spiritual, etc), and leave Hekate an offering at sundown (preferably a meal, but if you can't afford to waste food, just give her something else. Maybe bury or burn it if you can). Here's a list of good offerings (best left outside or at her altar, if you have one for her):

Bread

Cake (especially lit with candles)

Pomegranate

Wine

Honey

Cinnamon

Milk

Chocolate

Roses

Lavender

Poppy seeds

Dandelions

Incense (Frankincense, Lavender, Jasmine, Citrus, Dragons blood, Rosemary, or anything you have at hand)

Keys

Candles

Tea lights

Bones

Fire/Bonfire

Oil lamps

Crow/Raven/Own feathers

Poetry, Literature, Music, Hymns, etc

⛧ [11/01/24] [Metageitnion 1st] - Noumenia

WHAT IS IT & HOW TO CELEBRATE: The Noumenia is the first day of the visible New Moon and is held in honor of the household Gods. The Noumenia is a celebration of the start of a new Hellenic month and seeks blessings for the household. Honestly? You can just kick back and relax if you want or can, to invite calm energies into the upcoming month. But, if you (like me) want to be a little extra, here's some ways to celebrate:

Start a new personal project or hobby, or just pick back on things you've been putting off.

Set intentions for the coming month, and make plans for any of the month’s upcoming festivals, or for any of your personal upcoming plans.

Leave offerings for your deities.

Moon/stargaze, maybe meditate under the Moon.

Do a reading with your preferred divination method with the Theoi, asking what you should focus on in the coming month.

⛧ [12/01/24] [Metageitnion 2nd] - Agathos Daimon

WHAT IS IT & HOW TO CELEBRATE: One of my favorites! Daimons are household spirits that look after you and your family, so this is a day to honor Him! Pour a libation (especially wine, but mine likes milk better to be honest), make an offering, light a candle, maybe even make Him a lil altar! He's heavily associated with snakes, but aside from that you can offer (or put in His altar) anything you correlate with abundance, good luck, protection, etc. These guys are so overlooked and I love them. Here's a more in-depth post about Him and the holiday.

⛧ [13, 14, 16, 17, 18/01/24] [Metageitnion 3th, 4th, 6th, 7th & 8th] - Athena, Aphrodite/Hermes/Eros, Artemis, Apollo, Poseidon

WHAT IS IT & HOW TO CELEBRATE: Not exactly festivals, that's why I compiled them into one section, but these Lunar days are sacred to these deities in that order. Maybe leave them an offering or light them a candle, maybe even just devotional acts! Here's a good list of offerings for each:

ATHENA

Owl feathers/imagery

Pottery

Books

Toy weapons, athames, etc

Roses

Bread

Olive

Honey

Milk

Olive oil

Olive tree branches/leaves (real or not)

Clear crystals

Silver jewelry

Incense (Frankincense, Dragon's Blood, Cedarwood)

APHRODITE

Apples

Chocolate

Honey

Milk

Olive oil

Baked goods

Anything vanilla scented/flavored

Golden jewelry

Flowers (especially roses and anemones)

Sea stuff (sand, seashells, water, etc)

Perfume

Self care products

Rose quartz

Incense (Frankincense, Rose, Myrrh, Jasmine, Cinnamon, Vanilla, Cypress)

HERMES

Currency (real or not) (especially foreign)

Strawberries

Lemons

Dice

Playing cards

Travel tickets

Honey

Milk

Olive oil

Clovers

Cool rocks

Hematite

Incense (Frankincense, Myrrh, Safron, Dragon's Blood)

EROS

Honey cake

Chocolate

Fruit

Sweets (he likes candy a lot)

Milk

Honey

Olive oil

Rose quartz

Feathers

Flowers (real or not)

Heart-shaped objects

Arrows

Jewelry

Incense (Frankincense, Myrrh, Rose)

ARTEMIS

Animal related stuff (Imagery, bones, teeth, etc)

Moon related stuff

Moonstone

Clear quartz

Amethyst

Bows & Arrows

Leaves

Wild flowers

Acorns

Pine cones

Milk

Honey

Olive oil

Water

Silver jewelry

Incense (Frankincense, Cypress, anything woodsy)

APOLLO

Sun related stuff

Arts and crafts

Clear quartz

Citrine

Sunstone

Bows & arrows

Dandelions

Sunflowers

Poetry

Music

Honey

Milk

Olive oil

Water

Honeyed chamomile tea (he loves it)

Golden objects/jewelry

Divination items

Incense (Frankincense, Myrrh, Cypress, Clove, Cinnamon, Bay)

POSEIDON

Saltwater/Seawater

Seashells

Fish

Sand

Toy horses/horse imagery

Photos of the sea

Olive oil

Milk

Honey

Salt

Aquamarine

Sapphire

Incense (Frankincence, Myrrh, Pine)

⛧ [25-27/01/24] [Metageitnion 15-17th] - Eleusinia

WHAT IS IT & HOW TO CELEBRATE: The Eleusinia was a thanksgiving festival held to honor Demeter for the gift of grain. A modern way to celebrate is to have a big dinner (maybe include some breads and baking) and give thanks to Lady Demeter through it! Thank her for grain and the agricultural processes that we benefit from!

⛧ [28/01/24 ?] [Metageitnion 18th ?] - Adonia

WHAT IS IT & HOW TO CELEBRATE: A festival mourning the death of Adonis, one of Aphrodite's human lovers. Traditionally, it was celebrated only by women (as a trans guy, I personally don't give a fuck and celebrate it anyway). Also, there's no source for an exact date, so this is an educated guess at best (most sources just refers to it as taking place "midsummer"). For a way to celebrate, I found this amazing hymn/poem. Remember to honor Aphrodite on this day as well.

⛧ [30/01/24] [Metageitnion 20th] - Hera Telkhinia

WHAT IS IT & HOW TO CELEBRATE: A minor sacrifice for Hera, taking place in the suburbs of Athens. Again, not a lot of info, but if you worship or have a connection to her, maybe read her a hymn, pour a libation honor her on this day! Here's a Orphic hymn to her:

Hera, incense aromatic herbs and spices. You are seated in a cerulean cavern, having the form of air, Íra queen of all, happy one who shares the bed of Zefs, You provide gentle breezes which sustain the soul. Mother indeed of storms, attendant of the winds, all-begetting. Apart from you life and generation cannot be found; Mingled with the majestic air you partake of everything. You alone hold sovereignty, ruling over all. You are the stream which flutters down through the rushing winds. And now you, happy Goddess, many named, queen of all, Come with a countenance of kindness and joy.

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fallingdown98 · 10 months ago

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Shout out to Fantasy High Junior Year to get me to post original thoughts on here for the first time on years - Thought after Episode 15, The Last Stand, spoilers ahead

Based on what happened with Buddy, Brennan's callout of "what was loaded into that crossbow?", and Brennan saying in AP that killing Buddy was always on the table this is what I think Kipperlilly Clerickiller's plan was (Also ty Fandom I will be using this forever now)

1. Snuck in with Buddy when the Last Stand was being set up. (Saw some people questioning how she managed to get in, I truly think it's as simple as this)

2. Steal both Buddy and Kristen's diamonds to ensure no reviving can occur

3. I think the plan was to shoot the proctor with rage crystals, causing him to hulk out and depending on timing, no one to stop more monsters from arriving.

4. Based on where she was standing, I think the goal was to blame the crossbow bolt on Buddy and then leave still undetected with Oisin's prepped plane shift

4a. I still think Buddy dying was always part of the plan but I think the goal was to get the Bad Kids to have to ruin their own situation (Having to kill the hulked out proctor, seeing Buddy as an enemy and targeting him, being stuck because if Kristen had used her 7th level slot then they would at minimum be stuck for 8 hours assuming they all managed to survive if the monsters were still coming)

5. Theory here and we'll see if it proves correct but my immediate thought when Buddy died was that KLCK is planeshifting to the Celestial plane and hoping to use Buddy to sneak into Sol's office like when Aguefort snuck in through Kristin's backpack

6. Once in Sol's office, she would be where YES! Was originally created and the reason Bakur supposedly failed his ritual is that he needed to be in a place where a god had been created in order to rez a God.

7. Chaos ensues when corrupted Ankarna is brought back

8. Profit??? I guess??? Tbh the exact reasoning of the Ratgrinders is still the most elusive thing to me. I think my current most likely thought is that Jace is serving as manipulator and that KLCK is the most "lost in the sauce" as it were what with her pre-established anger issues.

Since we only saw a hand I'm reserving judgement on Oisin as he may have only been aware of his part of the plan and not the rest of what Miss ClericKiller has been up to. Not attached so I'm also down for him to be full evil but I'm just not sure yet.

Another thought I had is that the Ratgrinders may yet mirror the Bad Kids not just in class, but also in personal problems.

Ruben and Fig both having identity crises but Ruben has isolated himself so much he's turned to being a lackey

MaryAnn just doing what she's doing because she's good at it, not because it's something she's passionate about

If Oisin's dragon relative is evil and he's going along with the plot because of that, that would mirror Adaine breaking away from her own evil parents

Don't know enough about Ivy to have thoughts on her really, buddy and Lucy could probably be their own post tbh, and as I can't get a lock on Kipperlilly.

Jawbone seemed convinced she was just misunderstood and jawbone usually has a pretty good read on people. But then she's smiling while murdering Buddy and teleporting away. Why does she hate Riz specifically? Is it something he did or is it more generic jealousy (or a crush but I don't care for that theory personally and doesn't feel super supported currently)?

What's the deal with the rage soil and how did they place a rune of Ankarna's name on Yolanda/Lucy if it was unknown at that point?

Anyway, feel free to reblog or tag with thoughts, I'm so excited to unravel more of this mystery.

#fhyj #fhjy spoilers #rat grinders #bad kids #d20 #riz gukgak #kipperlilly copperkettle #oisin hakinvar #ruben hopclap #mary ann skuttle #buddy dawn #fhjy theory #adaine abernant #kristin applebees #Ankarna #the last stand

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geeseandlimes · 1 year ago

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[Honkai: Star Rail] Simulated You

Rating: G Pairing: Caelus/Dan Heng Character(s): Caelus, Dan Heng, March 7th, Herta Warning(s): None Summary:

A bug in the Simulated Universe causes Caelus to leave with a copy of Dan Heng's Imbibitor Lunae form. A very clingy Imbibitor Lunae. The only way to solve the problem is by either letting it run its course or...to fulfill Caelus' desire. Too bad Caelus is pretty sure Dan Heng doesn't like him like that.

“Well,” Herta says with a drawl in her voice that shows more amusement than disinterest, “it’s not like it’s im possible.”

Her extra emphasis only makes Caelus cringe. If Herta shows amusement then it just means bad things for him on the horizon. All of the newer features that kick his ass in the Simulated Universe are all prefaced by Herta showing some sort of almost genuine excitement. Though he’s not sure if he wants the puppet to dissect what’s going on right now.

“And can it be fixed?” Caelus asks.

Herta waves her hand, flippant. “Yes, yes, it can. It’ll just take some time.” Herta speak for ‘ I’m too amused by this so I’m going to drag it out as long as possible. ’ There’s the slight narrow of her eyes. A sly little smile that makes its way onto her face. “But, would you really want me to fix it?” she asks.

“Yes,” Caelus says, a little desperately. “It scares me.”

“I scare you?” a voice whispers into his ear. Caelus can’t help the red flush that creeps up his neck. He desperately tries to ignore the press of a soft, but firm, chest against his arm and the press of plush lips against the shell of his ear. Caelus especially tries to ignore the curl of a tail around his leg and the gentle embrace he is currently finding himself in. It makes him have thoughts and he can’t have thoughts because–

“Dan Heng doesn’t like me like this and this isn’t real,” Caelus blurts out.

All while a copy of Dan Heng’s vidyadhara form is clinging to him and nuzzling close as if Caelus is all he wants in the world.

“He’s real !” Herta sounds almost offended. “He’s fresh from the Simulated Universe–although due to a bug in the system–so he’s very much real!”

“He’s data! ” Caelus’ protest falls on deaf ears. Herta waves him off with a flick of her hair.

“But he’s in the here and now, courtesy of my Simulated Universe!” she says. “So you might as well treat him as if he’s real until I figure something out. Give Himeko my regards.” And that’s that. Herta does not give Caelus any room to argue. She cuts the conversation off, goes back to whatever she works on when he isn’t sifting through the Simulated Universe, and ignores him. Just leaves him to his…clingy Vidyadhara fate.

Speaking of Vidyadhara, Caelus is not going to have fun explaining why he’s coming on board with another Dan Heng.

“Caelus?” Simulated Dragon Dan Heng tightens the hold he has on Caelus. “Aren’t we heading back to the others?”

Caelus closes his eyes in defeat. There’s no avoiding this. He can’t just spend an indeterminate amount of time on the space station. Better face the music now. “Yeah, let’s go,” he says, and prays to god that March does not make a fuss.

*****

March makes a fuss.

She’s wide-eyed and flustered, her finger pointing furiously back and forth between Regular Dan Heng and Simulated Dan Heng. Her finger finally lands on Caelus, mouth slack jawed. “ How!? ” March squeaks out. “ How, how, hooooow!???? ”

Caelus wishes he can answer her with proper words. Maybe something along the lines of the Simulated Universe is just weird, or that there was a little hiccup. Instead, trapped as he is in Simulated Dan Heng’s arms (and tail) he can only awkwardly shrug. “Herta wouldn’t explain it properly,” he adds, as if that will help any. March fumbles for a bit, obviously confused, but it’s Dan Heng that Caelus is worried about. He keeps glimpsing over at the other man trying to gauge his reaction but he sees nothing. He doesn’t even hear Dan Heng say anything.

Simulated Dan Heng nuzzles close, cheek rubbing against Caelus’ own. It’s far too affectionate compared to how Dan Heng usually is. It gives Caelus thoughts again. All the “what ifs” and “could have been” if only–

Simulated Dan Heng presses his lips against Caelus’ cheek.

March shrieks, eyes wide and expression scandalized. Dan Heng looks just as scandalized, if not betrayed. Caelus can only pray for a hole in the ground to open up and swallow him. Maybe eject him out into space where he will then die of suffocation and the stellaron in his body can blow up safely. Anything to save him from whatever is going on right now.

“What’s wrong, Caelus?” Simulated Dan Heng asks, all coy and sweet. There’s honey dripping from his words. Something that Caelus finds incredibly hilarious considering what a simple question it is. A question that’s followed up by another kiss that lands dangerously close to the corner of Caelus’ mouth. This is absolutely slipping out of Caelus’ control (not that he had any). He places his hands on Simulated Dan Heng’s arms, ready to push them off. First thing first, he needs to extract himself from Simulated Dan Heng’s hold.

As nice as it is to even have Dan Heng (though not the real Dan Heng) pressed up to him, this situation is not meant to happen. Caelus wants things to be normal. Normal conversations, normal interactions–normal, normal, normal. He’ll just keep his feelings for Dan Heng tucked close to his chest. No need to shake the fragile atmosphere on the Express after everything that happened on the Luofu.

“Nothing’s wrong–”

“Everything is wrong.”

Caelus blinks owlishly as he feels a firm grip on his arm. With one harsh tug he finds himself stumbling out of Simulated Dan Heng’s hold and into Dan Heng’s chest. “Everything is absolutely wrong,” Dan Heng repeats. “You need to give him space so he can answer our questions.”

Simulated Dan Heng’s eyes narrow. His arms cross, so reminiscent of regular Dan Heng, and the look on his face is unimpressed. Caelus, still cradled in Dan Heng’s arms, finds himself sweating. He’s not quite sure what’s about to happen now.

“Then, shouldn’t you let him go, too?” Simulated Dan Heng asks. His tail is flicking behind him in annoyance. “You’re also holding on to him far too tightly.”

Dan Heng lets Caelus go as if he’s been burned.

Caelus stumbles forward, finally allowed to have a little breathing room ever since he left the space station. March is quick to rush up to him, nervously clinging to his sleeve as she stares at the two Dan Hengs staring each other down. “C-Come on you guys, let’s just figure out how to solve this,” March says.

“Herta is the only one who can help, though,” Caelus tells her. “And you know how Herta treats me.”

“Like a guinea pig, it’s disgusting,” both Dan Heng and Simulated Dan Heng say at the same time. The two glare at each other, but Simulated Dan Heng is the one who does something. He makes his way back to Caelus’ side. He doesn’t hug Caelus like before. He just nestles himself close to Caelus’ side, tail idly coiling around Caelus’ leg.

“I don’t like it at all,” Simulated Dan Heng murmurs. A hand comes up to rest on Caelus’ chest. “She puts you through way too much. You can ask for my help.” That hand trails up Caelus’ throat, delicate fingers coming up to tickle at Caelus’ chin. March is making flustered noises, her grip on Caelus’ sleeve threatening to tear the fabric.

“Stop that,” Dan Heng snaps.

Simulated Dan Heng scoffs.

“Why? Are you jealous and wish to be where I am instead?” Simulated Dan Heng follows his words up by gently grasping Caelus’ chin. Caelus has to swallow the lump in his throat, eyes widening as his head is turned to look at Simulated Dan Heng. He’s trapped by jade eyes, bright pupils, by his own thoughts of always wanting to kiss Dan Heng. Caelus’ heart is pounding as Simulated Dan Heng leans in. A part of his mind is yelling at him to pull away, but the love-drunk part of him, the one who loves Dan Heng a bit too much, demands he stays still.

“Caelus! Caelus, snap out of it, Dan Heng looks ready to kill!” March’s words fall on deaf ears.

Caelus parts his mouth, body shivering as he feels Simulated Dan Heng’s nose brush against his, their mouths about to connect–

Caelus is drenched in water right at the same time as the door to the lounge car slides open and Himeko comes strolling in with Welt announcing that she was able to get the solution for their problem from Herta. Dan Heng had turned into his Vidyadhara form, having used his cloudhymn magic to interrupt the almost kiss.

“Oh,” Himeko says, eyes wide, “did we perhaps interrupt something?”

*****

Yeah, Caelus definitely wants to die now. Not that he can, considering he is currently sat on Dan Heng’s bed in the archives, with Simulated Dan Heng curled up in his lap and purring .

Purring!

Dan Heng himself is standing by the terminal inputting data to the archive as always. Though, if Caelus squints his eyes a little, he swears he can see that Dan Heng’s movements are stiffer than usual. Angry, Caelus thinks. Dan Heng is angry. Caelus doesn’t blame him for being angry, either. The information that Herta had supplied Himeko with revealed too much information than Caelus was comfortable with. And that information directly involved Dan Heng.

Herta told me that the bug happened due to Caelus’ own desires getting mixed with the system that made Aeons manifest. The Dan Heng that is currently…very affectionate with him is what Caelus wishes to have. It should go away on its own. Or, if you wish to have this entity disappear faster, then simply fulfill those desires.

Caelus groans and closes his eyes. The worst way for Dan Heng to find out that Caelus harbors feelings that go beyond friendship for him. Simulated Dan Heng snuggles closer, as if taunting Caelus. At least the explanation Himeko gave explains the uncharacteristic way Simulated Dan Heng is asking. All of Caelus’ desires, made manifest thanks to a simple bug in the Simulated Universe. Honestly, Caelus should be apologizing to Dan Heng for all of this.

He came on board with a copy of Dan Heng’s Vidyadhara form. Said Vidyadhara form was latched onto Caelus and refused to let go. On top of that, Himeko then dropped the equivalent of a nuke in terms of information by saying that this Vidyadhara form reflected every single desire inside of Caelus. Dan Heng had to find out that Caelus wishes to not only kiss him, but also want him glued to his hip almost twenty-four seven.

Caelus would hate himself, too.

“Hey, Dan Heng–”

“Why aren’t you asking me,” Dan Heng, like he’s been doing since Caelus came back, cuts him off.

Caelus blinks owlishly. “What do you mean?”

“Why aren’t you asking me for help?” Dan Heng repeats. He’s stopped working on the archive, making his way to where Caelus and Simulated Dan Heng are sitting. “We can solve it by fulfilling your desires, right? So why aren’t you asking me?”

“Wha–Dan Heng, you do know what I want considering how this other you is asking, right?” As if to emphasize Caelus’ words, Simulated Dan Heng coils his tail tighter around Caelus’ waist. “I can’t ask that of you. You don’t…you don’t even like me like that.” Admitting it out loud hurts, but it’s the truth. Dan Heng appreciates Caelus as a friend. There’s no romantic attachment.

Dan Heng’s face looks conflicted, face twisting in rarely seen emotion.

Simulated Dan Heng’s purring stops. His hands cradle Caelus’ face, once again making Caelus look at him. “Look at you,” Simulated Dan Heng says, “so sad. Don’t look like that, you have me.” Simulated Dan Heng leans in for a kiss again, as if to comfort, but Caelus stops it by bringing a hand between them. It’s too much.

The smile Caelus puts on towards Dan Heng is self-depreciating. “Sorry, this must make you uncomfortable. I know we moved here just because it’s easier to keep an eye on the Simulated Universe version of you, but we can leave.”

Dan Heng doesn’t answer. In lieu of words he sits down next to Caelus. Almost awkwardly, he leans against Caelus to rest his head on Caelus’ shoulder. Simulated Dan Heng watches. Silence stretches between the three, long and awkward. It’s broken by Dan Heng.

“I don’t…I don’t know how to express myself properly,” Dan Heng says. “I’m too used to keeping to myself. That and I didn’t know how you’d react if I told you.”

“...yeah?” Caelus waits for Dan Heng to continue. Unconsciously, he tightens his grip on Simulated Dan Heng, who also stays quiet while Dan Heng speaks.

“So seeing you come onboard with the other me and seeing him do what I’ve sometimes thought about doing really made me…jealous.” Dan Heng seems to curl in on himself after admitting that. It’s an admission, a confession, that makes Caelus’ heart leap into his throat. He desperately tries to untangle himself from Simulated Dan Heng but only succeeds in draping one arm over Dan Heng. Jealous , Dan Heng is jealous . All because this other him had been clinging to Caelus and kissing him and doing the exact same things that Caelus thinks of whenever he sees Dan Heng.

“So you like me?” Caelus asks. “Like I like you?”

The tinge of red on Dan Heng’s ears tells Caelus everything.

“So I can keep saying that I like you. That I love you and want to kiss you and– mmph! ”

Caelus’ words are cut off by Dan Heng fisting his collar and dragging him in for a kiss. Their teeth bump together awkwardly and it’s more like they’re mashing their mouths together more than kissing. Caelus doesn’t care. He drinks it all in with glee, heart beating hard in his chest.

Dan Heng likes him.

Dan Heng loves him.

“Hey, I want one too,” Simulated Dan Heng says, trying to lean in and steal a kiss of his own. Dan Heng growls, his own tail finally coming out to wrap tightly around Caelus’ arm.

“You can’t have one,” Dan Heng says. “He’s mine.”

“I’m you, so that means he’s mine, too.”

Caelus can only awkwardly laugh as the two bicker, only to pause once he realizes that Simulated Dan Heng is still in his lap and not gone like Herta said he would be once Caelus’ desires were realized. Dan Heng seems to notice this, too.

“Caelus, what was it, exactly, that you wanted to do if he’s still here?” Dan Heng asks.

“Uhm.”

“Caelus?”

The following day, Simulated Dan Heng is gone and Caelus and Dan Heng come into the dining car together for breakfast. March is sitting there, head in her hands, and when they sit down she glares at them.

“Loud,” she hisses, “you’re too loud. Next time you guys decided to have some surprise fun time do it somewhere else.”

Dan Heng awkwardly coughs into his fist while Caelus looks absolutely unashamed. Hard to be embarrassed when he got everything he wanted last night. He casually hooks an arm around Dan Heng, a shit eating grin on his face.

“Couldn’t help it, I was just happy to be with the guy I love.”

Notes: Wooo! Baby's first post on the writing blog lmao. Written for a CaeHeng server's valentine's exchange for my giftee who gave me the fun prompt of Clingy DanHeng and Caelus sandwiched between his normal form and vidyadhara form.

don't question the logic for the Simulated Uni bug it was for plot purposes

#honkai star rail #caeheng #caelus #dan heng #duckies writings

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writers-melancholy · 3 months ago

Text

On the 7th day, they were wed. [Aemond Targaryen x Sister!Oc]

Trigger warnings: Targaryen Incest, Twincent, Mentions of unwanted sex, forced marriage, teen pregnancy.

Word count: 3,733k

•Master List•

___________________________________________

Being born a lady of nobility Viserra knew she would marry eventually, she knew that more than likely it would be a marriage of duty the complete opposite of love but oh how she longed for a love match. For there was already a boy who held her heart, his name Jacaerys Velaryon.

She was but ten and five preparing for a marriage of duty, a match she was forced into by her own actions and a betrayal by the person she was supposed to trust more than anyone, her beloved twin Aemond.

She should have been getting fussed upon by her ladies as is the custom before ones wedding yet here she was flying high above King's Landing on her beautiful she-dragon Syreen.

She could feel the wind blowing through her hair, it was almost soothing to her. She knew that by now her absence was noticed and her mother the Queen would soon send Aegon or Helaena to remind her of her duty.

She couldn't help but get lost in her thoughts, one stood out in particular “I should fly to Dragonstone.” This was her chance to choose for herself, to choose who she really wanted, Jacaerys and have a life together with their babe. It should have been easy to choose happiness and yet there was a voice telling her to stay… could it be that she actually wanted to marry Aemond? “No” she thought “I hate him!” Her face twisting with anger and sorrow for she did not want to hate him, in truth she wants to love him the way she loves Jacaerys. The way Aemond loves her.

You would think it would be hard to miss Dreamfyre flying up beside her and yet she only snapped out of her thoughts when she heard her sweet sister Helaena call out “Viserra!” how it reached her through the winds she didn't know.

Viserra’s head turned towards Helaena locking eyes as she shouted in return “I do not believe i can do it!”

“Marriage is not so bad!” Helaena shouts back.

Viserra was silent as she simply nodded allowing her sister to guide them back home.

It took them several minutes before they landed back at the dragon pit.

The Queen could be seen waiting with several of her ladies needless to say she looked furious, as Viserra dismounted Syreen she could hear her mother's booming voice “What in the Gods were you thinking!” she paused as she reached her daughters “it's going to take a long bath to wash the stink of dragon off you!”

“forgive me mother, I needed a moment to think.” Viserra said flatly, keeping her eyes on her feet so as to not be subjected to her mother's harsh glare.

“Could that not have been done in your rooms!” Alicent scolded before taking a deep breath as she continued “We haven't much time, come now.” As she took Viserra’s arm tightly and escorted her to her rooms.

Upon arrival she was immediately disrobed by her ladies maid Nessa and thrown into a bath as several of her ladies tried to scrub her clean, Viserras anxieties were growing with every second she couldn't help but dred this marriage.

Her hand unconsciously drifted up to her mouth as she started to chew on her thumb, “I'm scared..” she mumbled as she looked at her mother who was preparing her ceremonial robe.

Alicent turned around with a warm but sullen expression as she approached the tub grabbing a drying cloth, she motioned for Viserra to stand and she did. Alicent wrapped the cloth around her sweet daughter and spoke softly “You need not have any worries.” guiding her into the main living area as servants bustled around them “I was barely older than you are when I married your father.” Alicent continued

“Were you not scared.” Viserra asked as she sat down at her vanity. Nessa started to brush out her long white-blonde hair.

“Of course I was, but it was my duty as it is yours.” Alicent said flatly as she waved for her ladies to start braiding Viserra’s hair.

“Did you not wish to marry for love?” Viserra asked hesitantly

Alicent was caught off guard, taking a second to gather herself before she spoke “Over time one finds a mutual understanding, respect and perhaps even love if you are so lucky.”

Viserra was silent, clearly not pleased with the Queen's answer but was hesitant to press farther, just as she opened her mouth to ask another question Alicent suddenly shouted “You must get dressed!” clearly wanting to avoid discussing the topic any further.

Viserra simply nodded as she allowed her ladies to dress her in the ceremonial robes, she closed her eyes as the sting of tears came on, She was determined not to cry even if she so desperately wanted to.

She could feel Nessa’s nimble fingers securing the ceremonial headpiece, once the sting of tears had left Viserra’s eyes she opened them, coming face to face with her mother

“My sweet girl..” her mother cooes “You are a vision of beauty.” she states her voice over flowing with pride.

A knock could be heard at the door as Helaena entered her face lighting up as she saw Viserra “Sister…you look wonderful, like a true Targaryen bride!”

“Thank you Helaena…” Viserra whispers

“Ma’am” the Queen's ladies maid Talia says “It's time.”

The Queen doesn't speak but simply smiles as she turns to see her daughters standing hand and hand, something they had done since they were children.

“I don't think I can do this.” Viserra whispered to Helaena but before she could answer Alicent interjected “Of course you can, my sweet girl.” She gently grabbed onto Viserra, pulling her out of her rooms and down the corridor all the way to the sept, stopping just outside the main doors where Otto Hightower was waiting for them.

“Grandsire..” Viserra spoke

“Granddaughter it is time, I will escort you in after the Queen and Princess get seated.”

The Queen gave her daughter a kiss on the forehead before linking arms with Helaena and entering the sept.

As the doors opened Viserra could hear the chattering of people, most noble families that served at court but some who traveled for the wedding too. After a few moments the doors opened once again as Otto gently grasped his granddaughter's arm leading her into the sept and down the aisle.

With every step she was getting closer to her unwanted fate, and she could feel it she could feel him watching her as she walked down the aisle, her husband to be was waiting eagerly. She kept her eyes down to avoid his gaze.

As she came to a stop at the head of the aisle now standing next to Aemond, she looked towards her mother who was sitting in the front row next to the King, Aegon and Helaena. Viserra gave one last pleading look to Alicent as If asking to stop this, but her mother just smiled at her, unaware of her plea.

Viserra finally fixed her gaze onto Aemond, she could see the smile growing on his usually stoic face, it was getting bigger by the second as he just admired her, seemingly pleased with their matching ceremonial attire. Afterall he was the one who demanded on having a traditional Targaryen Ceremony.

They were so close it was almost unbearable, she wanted nothing more than to run away and escape from this moment but she knew that she had to live with the decision she made to stay. So she stood face to face with him as the ceremony started, Aemond was instructed to take the obsidian knife and lightly cut his lip she watched as he took his thumb and used the blood to mark her forehead.

Once it was her turn she hesitantly grasped the knife as she was expected to cut her own lip. she instead froze, just looking at him as he reached his hand out gently holding the knife over her hands as he moved the knife to her lip and cut it. She winced as the blood started to trickle down her chin. Once Aemond removed his hand Viserra set down the knife and she took her thumb and marked his forehead.

They were then instructed to take the knife once more and cut the palm of their hand, she had tears in her eyes as Aemond had to cut her hand for her, they then pressed their now bleeding palms together as their hands were bound with cloth.

A chalice was held under there bleeding hands to collect their mixed blood, once a fair amount had been collected the chalice was handed to Aemond as he took a drink he smiled then passed it to Viserra causing her to freeze again the thought of drinking blood made her stomach churn she also worried what affect the blood would have on her unborn babe. She looked up at Aemond once more causing him to simply nod in reassurance, this did soothe her worries as she knew that he would never make her do anything to cause harm.

After taking the chalice in her hand she touched it to her lips and drank, the metallic taste coated her tongue as she swallowed a tear fell down her cheek as he gently wiped it away.

The only thing left was to kiss, it was a small act on its own but oh how Viserra dreaded it. To her a kiss was something special you share with the one you love and the person she loved was sitting at dragonstone blissfully unaware of what was happening.

Without warning Aemond pressed a gentle but possessive kiss onto her lips, as he parted he leaned his forehead onto hers causing the guests to clap and cheer as their marriage was now bound in fire and blood just as Aemond had wanted.

After the ceremony had come to a close Viserra was escorted back to her rooms where she was changed out of her ceremonial robes and into her mother's old wedding dress albeit it had been modified to fit Viserra’s style a bit better and her ceremonial headpiece was removed and replaced with small gemstones that were gently tucked into her braided crown. The blood was cleaned off her face and her hand was bandaged.

She was then escorted to the banquet hall where everyone was waiting for her, as she entered all eyes were on her it was not a feeling Viserra was use too, she was use to blending into the shadows behind her siblings.

She made her way through the hall to the table where she stood next to her new husband, once she had taken her place everyone sat down. It was like the party had taken over the room as talking and cheers could be heard. It wasn't long before Aemomd decided to get up and ask his new bride to dance with him. Viserra hesitantly agreed as the two made their way to the dance floor he held out a hand for her to hold as he placed the other on on her waist gently leading her through the movements.

She kept her head down looking at their feet as the music played, Aemond soon whispered in her ear “You look beautiful tonight, during the ceremony especially.”

Viserra blushed slightly as she responded “You look handsome as well.” she started to hum to the music as they danced, it was something she always did even though it annoyed Aemond he softly chuckled

“Must you?” He laughed out seemingly amused by her childish humming

“Yes, I must!” She responded with a playful tone as a smirk creeped onto her face, it was nice she felt nice for once during this gut wrenching day. It was almost like she was just spending time with her beloved twin and not some betrayer who forced her into a marriage she didn't want.

As the night went on they mingled with their guests and they all ate a beautiful feast in celebration but eventually the night had come to a close and the bedding ceremony was approaching fast.

Once it was time the guest followed behind as Aemond escorted Viserra to their marriage chambers once they entered the room Aemond led her to the bed where he gently untied the back of her dress causing it to partially fall off of her, he helped it the rest of the way leaving her exposed.

She In turn helped him disrobe and as they stood naked Aemond planted a soft kiss onto her lips as he guided her onto her back, her body melting into the freshly laundered sheets beneath her, the smell of soap surrounded her and for a brief moment her mind was able to escape from reality.

But it didn't last long as she could feel him watching her, as she looked up at him she could see his violet eye wide and filled with desperation and vulnerability.

In this moment she held so much power over him and yet she didn't want it, for anyone else it would have been intoxicating but for her it was simply a reminder of who she was with.

She loved Aemond, of course she did but right now she hated him with every fiber of her being.

She gazed coldly into his eye, while he used his hand to gently separate her knees, stopping as he felt resistance.

Viserra didn't want this, not know and maybe not ever.

she turned her head to the side where she could see members of the royal court fighting for the best view. It was repulsive, it was at that moment she took a deep breath and relaxed her legs, letting them fall open like a book. Allowing Aemond to move closer positioning himself, he could feel the warmth of her body, it was driving him mad.

He leaned forward to engulf her lips into a deep kiss, he could feel her tremble at his touch. as he parted from the kiss she closed her eyes, a single tear running down her face.

He gently wiped it away just as he always does and whispered “I will make it quick.”

She gently nodded as he grabbed the back of her legs, pulling her body onto his with swift deliberate movement that made them both gasp, his with pleasure, hers with pain.

The feeling of him filling her was overwhelming, the pain sharp and throbbing much like her first time although the pain faded quicker this time.

Aemond had to take a moment to steady himself, his hands moving to her hips as he started to move slowly at first to allow Viserra's body to adjust.

Viserra’s eyes were so tightly shut that she could see spots, she felt uncomfortable. It wasn't that she felt physical pain, it was her heart breaking with every second she was made to endure this horribly outdated custom. She could feel eyes watching her in her most vulnerable moments, something that was supposed to be a private experience between those who love each other.

She wanted it over, she wanted to loathe this act, but she knew it was her duty as Aemond's wife. But the moment was out of her control, she could feel him as he ‘deflowered’ her in front of everyone.

Yet she found herself thinking “This feels nice.” As he kissed her all over, his breath started to come in ragged gasps as he thrusted harder and harder until finally he froze gripping her tightly as he engulfed her into a passionate but forceful kiss. She could hear his muffled moans as he finally pulled away from her.

The sound of clapping filled the room as Viserra's eyes opened, she got up quickly and reached for her discarded dress to try and recover some semblance of modesty. It took a few moments before two maids entered the room and removed the now spoiled sheets from the bed and held them up for the court to see, Viserras assumed they were pleased with what they saw as they cheered once more before leaving the room.

Their maids had quickly replaced the sheets before leaving the young couple alone for the night. Deciding she had been humiliated enough for one night she went to change into her night dress.

“Let me assist you.” Aemond said as he stepped closer grabbing the dress from her hands, she looked at him uncertain before she finally lifted her arms into the air as he lowered the dress over her arms and head and down over her body.

“Thank you.” She whispered as he gently bent down to kiss her once more before she turned her head to the side causing him to kiss her cheek instead. “I am tired, Aemond.” She said, he pulled away and nodded.

“I imagine the excitements of the day would be tiring to a woman in your condition, you should rest wife.” He spoke as he led her to the bed once more as she laid down. “I shall be to bed in a moment, there is something I must take care of first.” He spoke, dressing himself before leaving the room.

Soon Viserra drifted off to sleep and she found herself dreaming about someone she knew she shouldn't be dreaming about.

She found herself standing outside the sept in a beautiful gown made just for her, she chewed on her thumb as she peeked through the slightly cracked door. She could hear the guests chattering away; she had been so preoccupied she hardly noticed her father, the king coming up behind.

“Viserra..” He said, drawing her attention away from the door.

“Father! I was just - “ she started but was interrupted “You were just trying to peek at your groom!” He laughed “Do not worry child, I remember how I felt on my wedding day!”

“You do?” she asked

“Yes but that is a story for another time, for now we must focus on getting you down the aisle!” He said as he held his arm out for her to grab “Shall we?” He asked.

“We shall!” She answered as she linked arms with him the doors opened wide as Viserys led her down the aisle it took them a few minutes longer than normal but the wait was worth it to Viserra as she came to the head of the aisle stopping just in front of the sept she turned to see her beloved Jacaerys standing next to her, they shared a look of absolute joy as the sept began the ceremony.

As the ceremony began Jacaerys took hold of her marriage cloak and draped it over her shoulders one side of it was black with the Targaryen crest and the other half was blue with the Velaryon crest and the shoulders were gold. It was the same cloak Rhaenyra wore during her wedding to sir Leanor Velaryon and now Viserra was wearing it to marry their son.

As the ceremony progressed Viserra and Jacaerys couldn't keep their eyes off each other they had this magnetic pull between them in was almost unbearable being so close but so far away once the ceremony had concluded Jacaerys impatiently shared a tender kiss with his new wife and she returned his affections deepening the kiss as the guests cheered at the union.

Jacaerys and Viserra made there way to the banquet hall where they spent the rest of the evening dancing and gazing into each other eyes lovingly until it was time to retire for the night, Jacaerys held her hand gently as he guided her down the corridor to there marriage chambers thankfully there would be no bedding ceremony as both Jacaerys and his mother Rhaenyra had thought it was an outdated and unnecessary tradition.

They were both nervous and excited to spend the night as a married couple, as they entered their rooms Jacaerys helped Viserra change into her night dress and she did the same for him but they were interrupted by Viserra gently kissing him on the cheek.

“My beloved, are you tired?” Jacaerys asked in a soft caring tone, as he rubbed her cheek.

She smiled as she spoke “I believe the excitements of the day was too much for me in my condition.”

Jacaerys smiled as his hand gently caressed her stomach while it was still flat he knew that his child was growing within, “Well then shall we retire to bed?”

“I believe we shall.” she said as her hand grasped Jacaerys’ as he kissed her and then led her to bed as they laid together and gently drifted off to sleep, his arm tightly wrapped around her and their babe.

With a sudden gasp Viserra awoke quickly causing Aemond to look over cautiously from his side of the marriage bed. When she saw him she couldn't help but start to softly cry, this made Aemond whisper “Shh. Sweet one.” as he pulled her into a tight hug “it will be alright, it was just a nightmare, it's over now.”

“It wasn't a nightmare…” Viserra said into his chest as she cried.

“What was it then?” He asked rather puzzled.

“A dream….a very nice dream.” She said as she sniffled trying to compose herself.

“Tell me Sweetling.” He cooed as he rubbed her back.

“I do not wish to, please.” she begged as her tears soaked into his sleepshirt.

It was quiet for a moment before he flatly asked “You dream of him even now?"

Viserra looked at him unable to make out his expression in the dark but she could feel his body tense up. “I did not wish to dream of him!” She cried out.

He let out a disgruntled noise as he shoved her away from him, he turned away from her and dangled his feet over the edge of the bed, she grabbed onto his shoulder and begged him “Aemond, please don't go!”.

He ripped himself out of her grasp and shouted “I cannot share a bed with a woman who dreams of a man other than her husband!” He then stood up and stormed out to his old bedchambers leaving Viserra all alone with no one but the babe in her belly for company as she cried herself to sleep.

#aemond targaryen #hotd #targaryen oc #house of the dragon #house targaryen #viserra targaryen oc #jacaerys velaryon #hotd oc #hotd jacaerys #aemond x sister!oc

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